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A COMMONPLACE BOOK 



EPIGRAMS. 



X 



COMMONPLACE BOOK 



EPIGKAIS 



ANALYTICALLY ARRANGED. 



COMPILED BY 



CHAKLES STOKES CAREY, 



EDITOR OE LORD CHESTERFIELD S LETTERS TO HIS SON. 




LONDON: WILLIAM TEGG. 

1872. ' 






JOHN GUILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 



PKEFACE. 

The Collection now placed before the Reader originated 
in the suggestion of a friend, while talking over some 
long-forgotten work on the subject. 

Care has been taken to exclude all those Epigrams, 
whether old or new, which are of doubtful propriety, or 
which trifle with the name of the Deity, and to admit only 
such as have point, pith, and power. 

The nature of an Epigram is sufficiently explained in 
the poetical Introduction ; and it is hoped that the present 
Compilation will verify its title. 

CHARLES STOKES CAREY. 

1872. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION 

BOOK 

I. MORAL AND ECCLESIASTICAL EPIGRAMS . 
II. AMATORY EPIGRAMS 



III. 



EPIGRAMS ON MARRIAGE AND MARRIED 
LIFE 



IV. EPIGRAMS ON SOCIAL LIFE AND SOCIAL 
FOLLIES 

V. EPIGRAMS ON PERSONS, — LAUDATORY AND 
OTHERWISE 

VI. EPIGRAMS ON LITERATURE 

VII. PHILOSOPHICAL EPIGRAMS 

VIII. EPIGRAMS ON LAW AND LAWYEES 

IX. EPIGRAMS ON DOCTORS AND MEDICINE 

X. EPIGRAMS ON THE FINE ARTS . . 

XI. CONVIVIAL EPIGRAMS 

XII. TOPOGRAPHICAL EPIGRAMS 

XIII. UNGALLANT EPIGRAMS . . 



PAGB 
1 



3 

9 

34 

43 

53 
87 
99 
107 
115 
121 
128 
134 
140 



CONTENTS. 

BOOK PAGE 

XIV. HISTORY IN EPIGRAMS . . . . . . 149 

XV. POLITICAL EPIGRAMS . . . . . . 166 

XVI. MISCELLANEOUS EPIGRAMS : 

PART I. SATIRICAL . . . . . . 176 

II. HUMOROUS . . . . . . 196 

III. SENTIMENTAL AND DIDACTIC 209 






EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. 



INTRODUCTION. 

WHAT IS AN EPIGRAM? 

What is an epigram ? A dwarfish whole, 
Its body brevity, and wit its soul. 



A GOOD EPIGRAM. 

The qualities rare in a bee that we meet, 
In an epigram never should fail — 

The body should always be little and sweet, 
And a sting should be left in its tail. 



RECEIPT FOR AN EPIGRAM. 

Take a portion of wit, 

And fashion it fit, 
Like a needle, with point and with eye : 

A point that can wound, 

An eye to look round. 
And at folly or vice let it fly. — Ashby. 



another. 
One day in Chelsea meadows walking, 
Of poetry and such things talking, 
Says Ralph, a merry wag, 

1 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

6 An epigram, if smart and good, 
In all its circumstances should 
Belike a jelly-bag.' 

' Your simile, I own is true, 

But how wilt make it out? ' says Hugh. 

Quoth Kalph, ' I'll tell thee, friend : 
Make it at top both wide and fit 
To hold a budget full of wit, 

And point it at the end. 5 



From Martial. 
If a thousand arch epigrams are not enough, 
Never wilt thou be sated, kind reader, with stuff. 

JSlphinstone. 



BOOK I. 

MORAL AND ECCLESIASTICAL EPIGRAMS. 

ON A NEW-BOKN BABE. 

From, the Persian. 
On parent knees, a naked new-born child, 
Weeping thou sat'st, while all around thee smiled : 
So live that, sinking in thy last long sleep, 
Calm thou may'st smile, while all around thee weep. 



From the Greek, 
Thbacians! who howl around an infant's birth, 
And give the funeral hour to songs and mirth, 
Well in your grief and gladness are exprest, 
That life is labour, and that death is rest ! 



From the Greek. 
Abundance is a blessing to the wise ; 
The use of riches in discretion lies : 
Learn this, ye men of wealth ! A heavy purse 
In a fool's pocket is a heavy curse. 



From Martial. 
That there's no God John gravely swears, 
And quotes in proof his own affairs ; 
For how should such an atheist thrive, 
If there was any God alive 1 — Westminster Review. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 
THE BETTER LIFE. 

Circles are praised not that abound 

In largeness, but the exactly round ; 

So life we praise that does excel 

Not in much time, but acting well. — Waller. 



From Prior. 
What a frail thing is beauty ! ' says Baron le Cras. 
Perceiving his mistress had one eye of glass : 

And scarcely had he spoke it, 
When she, more confused as more angry she grew. 
By a negligent rage proved the maxim too true ; 

She dropp'd the eye and broke it. 



BY BR DODDRIDGE, 

Alluding to his Motto, l Bum vivimus, vii:amus.' > 

' Live while you live,' the Epicure would say, 
And seize the pleasures of the present day. 
' Live while you live,' the sacred Preacher cries, 
And give to God each moment as it flies. 
Lord, in my views let both united be ; 
I live in pleasure, when I live to thee. 



THE STAGE OF LIFE. 



Our life's a journey in a winter's day ; 
Some only break their fast, and so away ; 
Others stay dinner, and depart full-fed ; 
The deepest age but sups and goes to bed. 



INNOCENT THEFT. 



You tell us, Doctor, 'tis a sin to steal ; 
We to your practice from your text appeal. 
You steal a sermon, steal a nap ; and, pray, 
From dull companions don't you steal away ? 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 
SUPERSTITION. 

This fav'rite maxim modern atheists boast, 

' That fear first form'd the gods, tremendous host ■■ 

But let them say, the knotty point to clear, 

If fear made gods, who made almighty fea? 



ON A GAMESTER AND FREETHINKER. 

Jacta est alea. 
Here lies a sceptic, long in doubt 

If death could kill the soul or not ; 
Death ends his doubtfulness at last, 

Convinced, — but oh ! the die is cas; t 



POSSESSION. 

An evil spirit's on thee, friend ! of late, 

Even from the hour thou earnest to thy estate : 

Thy mirth all gone — thy kindness — thy discretion, 

The estate has proved to thee a most complete possessw a. 

Shame, shame, old friend ! would'st thou be truly blest. 

Be thy wealth's lord, not slave ! — possessor, not possess'd 



ELEGANT WIT. 

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, 
So wit is by politeness sharpest set : 
Their want of edge from their offence is seen, 
Both pain us least when exquisitely keen. 



UNOBTRUSIVE BEAUTY. 

As lamps burn silent with unconscious light, 
So modest ease in beauty shines most bright ; 
Unaiming charms with edge resistless fall, 
And she who meant no mischief, does it all. 



ON THE DEATH OF AN EPICURE. 

At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er, 
I've eat sufficient, I can drink no more : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

My night is come ; I've spent a jovial day ; 
'Tis time to part ; but oh ! what is to pay ? 



BE MAGNANIMOUS. 

How great thy might let none by mischief know 
But what thou canst by acts of kindness show: 
A power to hurt is no such noble thing ; 
The toad can poison, and the serpent sting. 



TKUE NOBILITY. 

That I was noble born, allow you must ; 
Chaste was my mother, and my father just. 



GUILTY GKEATNESS. 

When men of infamy to grandeur soar, 

They light a torch to show their shame the more. 



MONITION TO THE LADIES. 

MyrtilLA, rising with the dawn, 
Steals roses from the blushing morn ; 
But when Myrtilla sleeps till ten, 
Aurora steals them back again. 



on st. paul's cathedral. 
This is God's House ; but 'tis to be deplored 
More come to see the House than serve its Lord. 



GOOD ADVICE. 



That thou may'st injure no man, dovelike be, 
And serpentlike, that none may injure thee. 



WHICH SHOULD BE PITIED. 

Clergyman — I've lost my portmanteau. 
Traveller — I pity your grief 
Clergymanr-^AM my sermons are in it. 
Traveller — I pity the thief. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 
A SERMON IN SEASON. 

To the church I once went, 
But I grieved and I sorrow'd ; 

For the season was Lent, 

And the sermon was bowow'd. 



PERPLEXITY. 

By our preacher perplex'd, 
How shall we determine ? 

' Watch and pray,' says the text ; 
1 Go to sleep,' says the sermon. 



THE PREACHERS. 

The specious sermons of a learned man, 
Are little else than flashes in the pan : 
The mere haranguing upon what they call 
Morality, is powder without hall: 
But he that preaches with a Christian grace, 
Fires at our vices, and the shot takes place. 



THE TEACHER TAUGHT. 

Upon some hasty errand Tom was sent, 
And met his parish curate as he went ; 
But, just like what he was, a sorry clown, 
It seems he past him with a cover'd crown. 
The curate stopp'd ; and, turning, sternly said — 
I doubt, my lad, you're far worse taught than fed .' 
' Why, ay,' says Tom, still jogging on, ' that's true : 
Thank God, He feeds me; but I'm taught by you ! ' 



THE TRANSMIGRATION OF SOULS. 

Pythagoras taught in a system most dreary 

That through different bodies men's souls must pass; 

And so to give weight to his wonderful theory, 
The philosopher proved that himself was an ass. 



5 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON THE OXFORD CLERGY WHO URGED THEIR BISHOP 
TO OPPOSE DR HAMPDEN. 

As once the Pope with fury full, 

When Luther laid his heavy knocks on, 

At the Eeformer loosed a Bull ; — 

So these at Hampden set an Ox-on. — Punch, 1818. 



AURICULAR CONFESSION. 

Punch tells you, my Lord Bishop, whether you think so or 
no, 
It's no use your trying at Brighton Auriculas to grow ; 
For that plant and others like it were tried here long ago, 
But the soil proved too stubborn, and the temperature 
too low. 



SHAKSPEARIAN FRAGMENT. 

Hark, hark, the clerk the service sings, 

The candlesticks arise ; 
We'll soon have water from the springs 

In salted fonts that lies. 
And winking Marys 5 heads begin 

To ope their canvas eyes ; 
With everything that Koman bin : — 

My good John Bull, arise. — Punch. 



THE CHURCHYARD AND ARCHDEACON HALE, 

The intramural churchyard's reeking pale 

Breathes health around it, says a reverend party ; 

But though the spot may keep a parson Hale, 

Can people who inhale its fumes be hearty ?— Punch. 



THE BISHOP AND THE ZULU. 

A Bishop there was of Natal, 
Who had a Zulu for a pal — 
Says this Caff re, ; Look here — 
Ain't this Pentateuch queer ? ' 
Which perverted my lord of Natal . 



BOOK II. 



AMATORY EPIGRAMS. 

From the Greek. 

As a garland once I made. 

In a bed of roses laid, 

Love I found ; with eager joy 

By the wings I seized the boy ; 

Crowning then an ample cup, 

In a bumper drank him up. 

Now along my veins he swims, 

Fluttering, tickling through my limbs 



From the Greek. 
His shafts, the terror of the skies, 

No more the God of love discover 
Now from fair Anna's azure eyes , 

With surer aim they wound the lover 
For Venus he mistook the maid, 

And laughing ran his arms to give her 
The bow she bent, her skill essayed, 

And emptied at my heart the quiver. 



From the Greek. 

My Helen is little and brown, but more tender 

Than the cygnet's soft down, or the plumage of doves 

And her form like the ivy is graceful and slender, 
Like the ivy entwined round the tree tliat it loves. 



10 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Her voice, not thy cestus, Goddess of pleasure, 

Can so melt with desire or with ecstasy burn ; 
Her kindness unbounded she gives without measure 

To her languishing lover, and asks no return. 
Such a girl is my Helen — then never, ah never, 

Let my amorous heart, mighty Venus, forget her : 
Oh, grant me to keep my sweet mistress for ever, 

— For ever — at least, till you send me a better. 



From the Greek. 
The man who first laid down the pedant rule 
That love is folly, was himself the fool ; 
For if to life that transport you deny, 
What privilege is left us— but to die? 



From Martial. 
Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk ; — 
Still he can nothing but of Ncevia, talk : — 
Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute ; 
Still he must talk of Ncevia, or be mute. 
He wrote to his father ending with this line : 
' I am, my lovely Ncevia ! ever thine.' — •-— 

Spectator, No. 113. 



From Martial. 
When Arria from her wounded side 

To Psetus gave the reeking steel, 
1 1 feel not what I've done,' she cried ; 

' What Psetus is to do I feel.' — Br Hoadley. 



From Martial. 
Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses, 

For sweeter sure girl never gave ; 
But why, in the midst of my blisses, 

Do you ask me how many I'd have ? 

I am not to be stinted in pleasure, 
Then, prithee, my charmer, be kind ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 11 

For, while I love thee above measure, 

To numbers I'll ne'er be confined. 
Count the bees that on Hybla are plajdng ; 

Count the flowers that enamel its fields ; 
Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying ; 

Or the grain that rich Sicily yields. 
Go number the stars in the heaven ; 

Count how many sands on the shore : 
When so many kisses you've given, 

I still shall be craving for more. 
To a heart full of love let me hold thee, 

To a heart which, dear Chloe, is thine; 
With my arms I'll for ever enfold thee, 

And twist round thy form like a vine. 
What joy can be greater than this is ? 

My life on thy lips shall be spent ; 
But the wretch that can number his kisses, 

With few will be ever content. 

Sir 0. II. Williams. 



From Ausonius. 
Venus, take my votive glass ! 
Since I am not what I was ; 
What from this day I shall be, 
Venus, let me never see ! — Prior. 



ON A LADY WITH FINE EYES AND A BAD VOICE. 

Lucetta's charms our hearts surprise, 
At once, with love and wonder : 

She bears Jove's lightning in her eyes, 
But in her voice his thunder. 



CJEL1A ALTOGETHER. 

Yes, I'm in love, I feel it now, 
And Ccelia has undone me ; 

And yet I'll swear I can't tell how 
The pleasing plague stole on me. 



12 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

' Tis not her face that love creates, 

For there no graces revel : 
'Tis not her shape, for there the fates 

Have rather been uncivil. 

'Tis not her air, for sure in that 

There's nothing more than common ; 

And all her sense is only chat, 
Like any other woman. 

Her voice, her touch, might give th' alarm, - 
'Twas both perhaps — or neither : 

In short, 'twas that provoking charm 
Of Caslia altogether. — Whitehead, 



Supposed to oe written in 1767. 
I GAVE, 'twas but the other day, 
Phillis a ticket for the play — 

'Tis love such tricks imparts — 
When, holding up the card to me, 
She laughing said, ' Your emblem see ! ' 

And showed the knave of hearts. 

Amazed, I cried, ' What means my fair ? 
Colin will neither steal nor swear ; 

Your words I pray define.' 
She smiled and said, ' Nay, never start, 
He's sure a knave that steals a heart ; 

And, Colin, you have mine.' — Punch. 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 

' A Temple to Friendship,' said Laura, enchanted, 
'I '11 build in this garden — the thought is divine ! r 

Her temple was built, and she now only wanted 
An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine. 

She flew to the sculptor, who set down before her 
A Friendship, the fairest his art could invent ■ 

But so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer 
Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she meant. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 13 

Oh never,' she cried, 'can I think of enshrining 
An image whose looks are so joyless and dim : 
But yon little god, upon roses reclining, 

We'll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of him.' 

So the bargain was struck ; with the little god laden, 

She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove : 
Farewell,' said the sculptor, * you're not the first maiden 
Who came but for Friendship, and took away Love.' 



From Rousseau. 
Advanced in years, the goddess Venus 

Sought in a holy cloister rest, 
Bequeathing, dearest maid, between us 

All that her goddesship possess' d. 

Of an executor the duty 

She trusted to her eldest son ; 

But he, sad rogue l* seduced by beauty 3 
Injustice to my right has done. 

Unfairly he the Cyprian treasures 
Allotted to his mother's heirs ; 

To you he gave the smiles and pleasures, 
To me he left the tears and cares. 



TO CYNTHIA. 

Ah ! tell me no more, my dear girl, with a sigh, 
That a coldness will creep o'er my heart ; 

That a sullen indifference will dwell on my eye 
When thy beauty begins to depart. 

Shall thy graces, O Oynthia ! that gladden my day, 
And brighten the gloom of the night, 

Till life be extinguish'd, from memory stray, 
Which it ought to review with delight ? 

Upbraiding, shall gratitude sa3 r , with a tear, 
' That no longer I think of those charms 

Which gave to my bosom such rapture sincere, 
And faded at length in my arms ? ' 



14 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Why, yes ! it may happen, thou damsel divine : 

To be honest — I freely declare, 
That even now to thy converse so much I incline 

I've already forgot thou art fair. 



From the French. 

As charm' d I view these rills, and groves, and fields 
Thy form, my fair, I near me seem to see ! 

While nature to the sight her beauties yields, 
How can I then forbear to think on thee? 



From Marquis de Pezac. 

By thee, on the sand of this shore, 

Our cyphers in union were traced ; 
But the fugitive billows roll'd o'er, 

And the writing was quickly effaced. 
Yet this emblem of love, though so frail 

That the water soon swept it away, 
Not so soon, O thou false one, did fail 

As the passion 'twas meant to display. 



HERRICK, ON HIS GREY HAIRS. 

Fly me not, though I be grey ; 
Lady, this I know you'll say, 
Better look the roses red 
When with white commingled. 
Black your hairs are, mine are white ; 
This begets the more delight 
When things meet most opposite ; 
As in pictures we descry 
Venus standing Vulcan by. 

TO CHLOE. 

Dear Chloe, well I know the swain 
Who gladly would embrace thy chain, 
And who, alas ! can blame him ? 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Affect not, Chloe, a surprise : 
Look but a moment on these eyes, 
Thou'lt ask me not to name him. 



TO A LADY. 

Forgive, fair creature, form'd to please ; 

Forgive a wandering youth's desire : 
Those charms, those virtues, when he sees, 

How can he see, and not admire ? 
While each the other still improves, 

The fairest face, the fairest mind, 
Sure all must grant, ' not he that loves, 

But he that loves you not, is blind.' 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 

Friendship is like the cobbler's tye, 
That binds two souls in unity : 
But love is like the cobbler's awj, 
That pierces through the soul and all. 



. TO GALL A. 

Galla, the seasons of each circling year, 

To thee, my Love, their choicest offerings bear ; 

Spring thy young cheek with bashful purple dies, 

And Summer lights her lustres in thine eyes ; 

Autumn her apples in thy bosom throws, 

And Winter clothes thee with her whitest snows. 



CHERISHED LOVE. 

Go — you may call it madness, folly, 

You shall not chase my gloom away ; 
There's such a charm in melancholy, 

I would not, if I could, be gay. 
Oh! if you knew the pensive pleasure 

That fills my bosom when I sigh, 
You would not rob me of a treasure 

Monarchs are too poor to buy. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 
TO A FRIEND. 

Her image, who enslaves my mind, 

Urge me no longer to discover ; 
Fain would I sing, but, ah ! I find 

The bard can ill express the lover. 
Yet, trust me, he whose happier skill 

For terms could ransack earth, air, ocean, 
Might show, perhaps, more wit at will, 

But less of genuine emotion. 
Though Art the florid phrase deny, 

Yet Truth can never want expression, 
For that last language of the eye 

Is still in hers and Love's possession. 



TO SYLVIA. 

How canst thou smile at my despair, 

And bid me other nymphs adore ? 
Show me a girl but half so fair, 

And I will trouble thee no more. 
Hide then that neck, and lip, and eye, 

Since thus resolved to shun pursuit ; 
For Love will follow, like the fly 

That always seeks the fairest fruit. 



From Lessing. 

I ASk'd my fair, one happfy day, 

What I should call her in my lay ; 
By what sweet name, from Rome or Greece • 

Iphigenia, Clelia, Chloris, 

Laura, Lesbia, Delia, Doris, 
Dorimene, or Lucrece ? 

Ah ! replied my gentle fair, 

Beloved ! what are names but air ? 
lake thou whatever suits the line, 

Clelia, Iphigenia, Chloris, 

Laura, Lesbia, Delia, Doris — 
But don't forget to call me — thine. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 17 

ON LOVE. 

I never knew a sprightly fair 

That was not dear to me ; 
And freely I my heart could share 

With every one I see : 

It is not this or that alone 

On whom my choice would fall ; 
I do no more incline to one 

Than I incline to all. 
The circle's bounding line are they, 

Its centre is my heart : 
My ready love, the equal ray 

That flows to every part. 



From Benserade. 
I SHALL expire with overwhelming woe, 

If cruel she remain ; 
I shall expire with pleasure's overflow, 

If mutual love she deign ! 
Thus 'tis decreed the woe that I endure 

Must last while I have breath : 
Since by the remedy, or by the cure, 

I meet with certain death. 



CUPID FOUND. 

From Tricot. 

I've found the boy so full of charms, 
The traitor Love, who fled thine arms ; 
Then, sorrowing Venus, now give over 
Thy search, for here's thy darling rover. 
I found him, but no shafts had he, 
No quiver — and his eyes were free. 
How sight he gain'd, or how his bow 
And darts he lost, seek not to know : 
But if, in time to come, thou fain 
His truant wanderings would'st restrain, 
2 



18 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Either thy fillet once more bind 
Around his brows, thy boy to blind, 
Or to his ravish' d gaze assume 
My Laura's form, my Laura's bloom. 



TO A LADY OF A CHANGEFUL TEMPER. 

From Rabiotin. 

I WOULD rather,*dear girl, fewer claspings and kisses 
Keceive, and less mutable fondness obtain, 

Than be one day o'erwhelm'd with your lavishing blisses, 
And the next overwhelm'd by your cruel disdain. 



SILENT LOVE. 

If silent oft you see me pine, 

Nor in your presence dare to speak, 

It is because a love like mine 

Finds all expression faint and weak. 

It is because I oft have told 
The melancholy tale in vain, 

It is because your looks are cold, 
And seem to bid me hide my pain. 

Oh, why then are you silent still ? 

Why am I forced those eyes to read, 
To learn, from them, to guess your will, 

Which, were it known, should be obey'd. 
Whatever may the sentence be, 

W^hich from those lovely lips may come, 
It cannot seem so harsh to me, 

As thus in silence wait my doom. 
Ah, let thy tongue my fate explain, 

And I will try to bear my woe ; 
In love, as death, the greatest pain 

Is all to fear, and nothing know. 

From JBrossin. 
In the ages when innocence reign'd, 'twas a pleasure 
To listen to love, and encourage his fires ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 19 

No splendour persuaded, they lavish' d no treasure 
But of cares, and attentions, and tender desires. 

But now, without fortune, 'twere surely more wise 
To renounce the delight that must lead to delusion ; 

For the lover, whose only expense is in sighs, 
Will be paid but w r ith hope for a life of profusion. 



FRUITLESS CARE. 

In vain, within my tortured breast, 
Its love-inspired sighs repressing, 

A stranger to the balms of rest, 

I smile, as though its balm possessing. 

In vain those tears that strive to flow, 
Tears of a heart now doom'd to languish, 

I check ; lest aught on earth should know 
How dark my fate, how deep my anguish . 

In vain ! for more than tears or sighs 
This sure my passion must discover, 

That, spite of care, my tell-tale eyes 
In every glance betray the lover ! 



LABOUR IN VAIN. 

In vain you strive, by every art, 

Once more to lure me to your arms ; 

For know, my free indignant heart 
Defies the magic of your charms. 

There was a time when all your oaths 
That fond undoubting heart believed ; 

Now, wisdom taught, the past it loathes, 
And scorns to be again deceived. 

My foolish love was doom'd to die : 
'Twas you the fatal shaft that sped ; 

And now, capricious girl, you try 
With fruitless care to wake the dead. 



20 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE FATAL MOMENT. 

It was but a moment ! 'twas but like a dream ! 

Of her musical voice I but just heard the sound ; 
And but just of her dark tender eyes caught the beam, 

As they smilingly roved o'er the landscape around. 

Yet, tho' brief was the moment, 'twas fatal to me, 
For that moment the peace of.my bosom destroy'd : 

Now in feverish slumbers her image I see, 
And, waking, my soul feels a sorrowful void. 

Thus, when Summer the pride of her beauty displays, 
From the gathering clouds dart their arrowy fires ; 

And the victim scarce views the sulphureous blaze, 
Scarcely breathes out a sigh, ere he falls and expires ! 



the way to discovee love. 
Lesbia rails, without ceasing, at me the whole day, 

And yet hang me, if Lesbia don't love me sincerely 
' How d' you know it ? ' you cry — Why, 'tis just my 
own way ; 
Though I rail without ceasing, I still love her dearly ! 



****** 



Lethe's dark oblivious wave 

Where, O where, didst thou discover ? 
Ere he languish to the grave, 

Tell thy lost, deserted lover 1 

Yet, in vain a boon like this 

Wouldst thou give, should Pity let thee : 
He who once has known thy kiss 

Perish must, ere he forget thee. 



TO LAURA. 

From the French. 
Lo 1 where the bee from yonder rose, 
Fill'd with sweet plunder, flies ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



21 



Yet still the flower as warmly glows, 
As rich its odours rise. 

So, dearest, by my ardent kiss 
Thy charms unchanged we see ; 

Then frown not, since my honied bliss 
Has nothing stolen from thee. 



MADAME DE MIREPOIX TO THE DUC DE NIVERNOIS, 

with a Loch of her Hair. 

Look, they are grey — but, turn'd to grey, 
These locks our union's date attest ; 

Poor spoil that age can bear away, 
But leaves me yet in friendship blest. 

No change in friendship's star appears, 

Whose lustre,, as in early prime, 
Flames in the winter of our years, 

Kindled by choice, and fed by time. 

No more the world our flame reproving, 
Will force our bosoms to repress it ; 

Grey hairs, beside the charm of loving, 
Allow the freedom to confess it. 



ANSWER OF THE DUC DE NIVERNOIS. 

Talk not of snowy locks — have done- 
Time runs the same, and let him run — 

To us what bodes the tyrant's rage ? 
He knows not tender hearts to sever, 
The little Loves are infants ever ; 

The Graces are of every age. 

To thee, Themira, when I bow, 
For ever in my spring I glow, 

And more in years approve thee. 
Could I to gay eighteen return, 
With longer ardour I might burn, 

But dearer could not love thee. 



22 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE ORIGIN OE THE PEN". 

Love begg'd and pray'd old Time to stay, 

While he and Pysche toy'd together ; 
Love held his wings — Time tore away, 

But in the scuffle dropp'd a feather. 
Love seized the prize, and with his dart 

Adroitly work'd to trim and shape it — 
' 0, Psyche ! though 'tis pain to part, 

This charm shall make us half escape it. 
Time need not fear to fly too slow, 

"When he this useful loss discovers ; 
A pen's the only plume I know, 

That wings his pace for absent lovers.' 



TULIPS AND ROSES. 

My Eosa, from the latticed grove, 

Brought me a sweet bouquet of posies, 
And ask'd, as round my neck she clung, 

If tulips I preferr'd to roses? 
' I cannot tell, sweet wife,' I sigh'd, 

' But kiss me ere I see the posies : ' 
She did, ' Oh, I prefer,' I cried, 

4 Thy two lips to a dozen roses.' 



TO A LADY, WHO LAMENTED SHE COULD NOT SING. 

1 Oh, give to Lydia, ye blest Powers ! ' I cried, 
A voice ! the only gift ye have denied.' — 
' A voice ! ' says Venus, with a laughing air ? 
A voice ! strange object of a lover's prayer I 
Say — shall your chosen fair resemble most 
Yon Philomel, whose voice is all her boast ; 
Or, curtain'd round with leaves, yon mournful dove, 
That hoarsely murmurs to the conscious grove? ' 
4 Still more unlike,' said I, ' be Lydia's note, 
The pleasing tone of Philomela's throat, 
So, to the hoarseness of the murmuring dove, 
She joins ('tis all I ask) the turtle's love ! ' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 23 



From Panard. 



Oh, how soft beam your eyes ! Oh, how tender their gaze ! 

If I dare to believe them, you love me most dearly : 
But does your heart feel what I learn from their rays 1 

Oh, tell me, dear youth, are they speaking sincerely ? 
If you love not, alas ! with my peace do not play ; 

To allure me, no longer thus cruelly seek : 
And if then your heart has got nothing to say, 

Ob, let not your eyes with such eloquence speak. 



From Chanlieu. 

tell me not, with groundless fear, 
That, bending to some otber beauty, 

1 may forget you 'once were dear, 

And vow to her my tender duty. 
No, loveliest ! no ; for though the youtb 

Who sees thy charms may break for ever 
All former vows of plighted truth, 

Faithless again shall he be never. 



. TO DELIA. 

Permitted, unreproved, to gaze, 
My favour'd rival idly strays : — 
O bless, whene'er thou wilt, my sight, 
This breast will beat with pure delight ! 
If he, who feels the tropic sun, 
Repairs to shade the warmth to shun, 
The dweller on the polar shores 
Ne'er sees him shine but he adores. 



From Patrix. 
Sighs, and looks, and soft attentions, 

Well a tender flame reveal: 
He who least his passion mentions, 

Oft is found the most to feel. 



21 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Though from his lips the fair one hears 
No word his wishes to discover, 

Yet he who serves, and perseveres, 
Plainly proves himself a lover. 



TO A MIRROR. 

From the Spanish. 
Since still my passion-pleading strains 

Have fail'd her heart to move, 
Show, mirror, to that lovely maid, 

The charms that made me love. 

Reflect on her the thrilling beam 

Of magic from her eye, 
So, like Narcissus, she shall gaze, 

And self-enamour'd die. 



From La Sabliere. 
So much I press'd, so much I pray'd, 

frrom Laura's lips I gain'd a kiss ; 
But swift as lightning through the shade, 

So swiftly fled my bliss. 

Love ! thou hast not done me right ! 

Had justice in thy mind a place, 
Thou hadst not destined my delight 

To live so brief a space. 

As long a time as I had press'd 

To gain the dear delicious treasure, 

So long, Love ! to make me blest, 
Should I have felt the pleasure. 



Coined from the Window of an obscure Lodging in 
Lslington. 

Stranger, whoe'er thou art, whose restless mind 
Like me within these walls is cribb'd, confined ; 
Learn how each want that heaves our mutual sigh% 
A. woman's soft solicitude supplies : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. %l 

From her white breast retreat all rude alarms, 
Or fly the circle of her magic arms : 
While souls exchanged alternate grace acquire, 
And passions catch from passions mutual fire. 

What though to deck this roof no arts combine 
Such forms as rival every fair but mine : 
No nodding plumes, our humble couch above, 
Proclaim each triumph of unbounded love ; 
No silver lamp with sculptured Cupids gay, 
O'er yielding beauty pours its midnight ray ; 
Yet Fanny's charms could Time's slow flight, beguile, 
Soothe every care, and make this dungeon smile : 
In her what kings, what saints have wish'd, is given, 
Her heart is empire, and her love is heaven. 



THE INTOXICATION OF LOVE. 

The girl that I love lately gave me a kiss, 
And the dew of her lips seal'd the ravishing bliss : 
Of nectar the kiss, for her breath gave it bloom ; 
Her breath was the nectars delicious perfume. 
Now full flowing bumpers of rapture I prove, 
And tipsy with joy, I'm a Bacchus in love. 



THE VIOLET. 

The violet in her greenwood bower, 

Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle. 

May boast itself the fairest flower 
In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. 

Though fair her gems of azure hue 

Beneath the dewdrop's weight reclining, 

Fve seen an eye of lovelier blue, 

More sweet through watery lustre shining. 

The summer sun the dew shall dry, 
Ere yet the day be past its morrow ; 

Nor longer in my false love's eye 
Remain'd the tear of parting sorrow. 



26 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON MYRTILLA. 

The Persians stretch their votive arms 

To Phoebus in his rising state ; 
I gaze on dear Myrtilla's charms, 

And meet those eyes that dart my fate. 
So the fond moth round tapers plays, 

Nor dreams of death in such bright fires ; 
With joy he hastes into the blaze, 

He courts his doom, and there expires. 



ON ONE INSENSIBLE OF THE PASSION HE HAD EXCITED. 

Thus by some stream's reflecting tide, 
The passing traveller often waits ; 

Views, unconcern'd, the waters glide, 
Nor heeds the image he creates. 



TIME AND LOVE. 

Time and Love are ever foes, 

Following still a different aim ; 
Where the rosy tyrant glows 

Steals old Time, and damps the flame. 
Angry Love a vengeful blow 

Oft inflicts, as rage inspires, 
And, where Time has scatter' d snow, 

Joys to wake the rebel fires. 
Men in every age and clime 

Equal still their triumphs prove ; 
Oft from Love forgetting Time, 

Oft from Time forgetting Love. 



From the Aoocvte Buondelmonie. 
Undee Friendship's fair disguise, 
Love, in smiling frolic, lies ; 
Or. affecting Anger, now, 
Furls, like Scorn, its wrinkled brow ; 
Nay, with Hatred's sullen mien 
Crafty Love is frequent seen ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 27 

Pity's face too oft it wears, 
Bathed in subtle, well-feign'd tears : 

But beware Love's wanton wiles, 
O ! beware his tears and smiles ; 
Love in every form, believe, 
Still is Love, and will deceive. 



THE EXCHANGE OF HEARTS. 

We pledged our hearts, my love and I, 
I in my arms the maiden clasping ; 

I could not guess the reason why, 
But, oh ! I trembled like an aspen. 

Her father's leave she bade me gain ; 

I went, but shook like any reed ! 
I strove to act the man — in vain ! 

We had exchanged our hearts indeed. 



THE KISS. 

What a rout do you make for a single poor kiss ! 

I seized it, 'tis true, and I ne'er shall repent it : 
May he ne'er enjoj^ one, who shall think it amiss ; 

But, for me, I thank dear Cytherea who sent it. 

You may pout, and look prettily cross, but I pray, 
What business so near to my lips had your cheek ? 

If you will put temptation so pat in one's way, 
Saints, resist if ye can, but for me, I'm too weak. 

But come, my sweet Fanny, our quarrel let's end, 
Nor will I by force, what you gave not. retain ; 

By allowing the kiss, I'm for ever your friend, 
If you say that I stole it — why take it again. 



From Marat. 

What once I was, no more am I ; 
What once I was, alas ! can be no more ! 

On hasty pinions doom'd to fly, 
My blooming spring and summer now are o'er. 



2S EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Thee, beyond all the immortal powers, 
I served, Love ! and gloried to obey thee. 

But, were restored my vernal hours, 
More perfect homage would thy votary pay thee ! 



Imitation from Cornelius G alius. 
When Lesbia, to her lover dear, 

Though many a teasing trick expert in, 
Heard my approaching footsteps near, 

She slunk behind the window-curtain. 
Yet, as she tripp'd along, she turn'd, 

To watch if I perceived her running ; 
Her cheeks with crimson blushes burn'd, 

Her eyes glanced forth a smile of cunning. 
She spread her fingers o'er her face, 

And wish'd I might not wholly view her ; 
And yet she wish'd her hiding-place 

Should show me where I might come to her. 



ABSENCE. 

When the maid who possesses my heart 

Was content at my mansion to stay, 
Kapid time was in haste to depart, 

And the moments fled laughing away. 
But now, since I see her not near, 

And to seek her is not in my power, 
Every day is as long as a year, 

Every moment as slow as an hour. 



the inquiry. 
With beauty, with pleasure surrounded, to languish. — 
To weep, without knowing the cause of my anguish ; 
To start from short slumber, and wish for the morning,— 
To close my dull eyes when I see it returning ; 
Sighs sudden and frequent, looks ever dejected, — - 
Words that steal from my tongue, by no meaning con- 
nected ! 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NW- 29 

Ah ! say, fellow-swains, how these S3 T mptorns befell me ? 
They smile, but reply not — sure Delia can tell me ! 



INSCRIPTION FOE A STATUE OF CUPID. 

Whosoever thou art, thy master see ! 
He was, or is, or is to be. 



TO A LADf , WITH THE PRESENT OF A WATCH. 

With me while present, may thy lovely eyes 

Be never turn'd upon this golden toy ; 
Think every pleasing hour too swiftly flies, 

And measure time, by joy exceeding joy. 
But when the cares that interrupt our bliss, 

To me not always will thy sight allow, 
Then oft, with kind impatience, look on this, 

Then every minute count — as I do now. 



From Hontreuil. 
Why ask so oft, with fond alarms, 

If constant I'll remain ? 
And o'er my heart how r long thy charms 

Will hold their wonted reign ? 

No more these questions let me hear, 

Since I can ne'er reply : 
I do not know, my Sylvia dear, 

The day when I shall die. 



From Guarini. 
Why frown my fair I — The mighty bliss 

Was bought with equal smart; 
I rudely stole a rapturous kiss, 

I paid thee with my heart. 



Yes, false one, triumph in my woes, 
And joy these flowing tears to see ! 



30 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

How just to wound that heart's repose 

That gladly would have bled for thee ! 
Yet poor the triumph thou hast gain'd, 

And very soon will it be o'er ; 
That bosom, where thou long hast reign'd, 

Shall fondly throb for thee no more. 
Nor vainly think my tears, my sighs, 

Love's still un vanquish' d power proclaim ; 
Each drop that trickles from my eyes 

But helps to quench his dying flame. 



IMPROMPTU. 

To a Lady, who gave me two sweetmeat * lasses.' 
You gave me, dear Ellen, two kisses ! 

What mortal so dull that would spurn them 1 
Yet, though they're the sweetest of blisses, 
I own that I die to return them ! 



HERRICK TO HIS MISTRESS, 

Objecting to him neither toying nor talking. 
You say I love not, 'cause I do not play 
Still with your curls, and kiss the time away ; 
You blame me, too, because I can't devise 
Some sport to please those babies in your eyes : 
By love's religion, I must here confess it, 
The most I love when I the least express it ! 
Small griefs find tongues ; full casks are ever found 
To give, if any, yet but little sound ; 
Deep waters noiseless are ; and this we know, 
That chiding streams betray small depth below : 
So when love speechless is, it doth express 
A depth in love, and that love bottomless. 
Now since my love is tongueless, know me such, 
Who little speak, because I love so much. 



TO A YOUNG LADY. 

Wlio wished not to be admired. 
An, foolish Delia! since you hate 
That people of your charms should prate, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 31 

Give me that face, that air divine, 
And in exchange accept of mine. 
Thus shall I gain my heart's desire, 
And set a raptured world on fire — 
You'll too be pleased (no longer doubt ye), 
As folks won't sav one word about ve. 



From the Italian. 
As, Venus, late you miss'd your boy, 

And anxious sought where he had stray'd, 
* One kiss,' you cried, ' I'll give with joy 

To him who knows where Cupid's laid.' 
Give me the kiss — for see he lies 

In the dark heaven of Eosa's eyes ; 
Or bid my Eosa's lips bestow 

The kiss, and yours I will forego. 

CUPID'S MISTAKE. 

At Laura's feet the God of Love 

His arrows and his quiver lays, 
Forgets he has a throne above, 

And with this lovely creature stays. 
Not Venus' beauties are more bright, 

But each appear so like the other, 
That Cupid has mistook the r'ght, 

And takes the nymph to be his mother. 



WINGED TIME. 

* Tell me,' said Laura, 'what may be 
The difference 'twixt a clock and me.' 

* Laura,' I cried, ' Love prompts my powers 

To do the task you've set them : 
A clock reminds us of the hours ; 
You cause us to forget them.' 



ON BEING EXPELLED A LADY'S COMPANY. 
Thus Adam look'd, when from the garden driven, 
And thus disputed orders sent from heaven : 



32 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Like him I go, though to depart I'm loth ; 
Like him I go, for angels drive us both : 
Hard was his fate ; but mine still more unkind ; 
His love went with him, but mine stays behind. 



From the Portuguese. 
You call me still your life ; oh, change the word : 

Life is as transient as the inconstant sigh. 
Say rather I'm your soul, — more just that name, 

For, like the soul, my love can never die. — Byron. 



ON ANNIE BREAD. 

' Toast any girl but her,' said Ned 5 
' With every other flutter — 

I'll be content with Annie Bread, 
And won't have any out her ' 



A LAWYER CN WOMEN. 

Fee-simple and the simple fee, 

And all the fees in tail, 
Are nothing when compared with thee, 

Thou best of fees— fe-male. 



TO A LADY, WITH A PAIR OF GLOVES. 

Fairest, to thee I send these gloves ; 
If you love me, leave out the g, 
And make a pair of loves. 



LOVERS' LIES. 

Say, wherefore is it lovers' lie3 
Cause to the world so much surprise, 
When every common fool must know, 
That Cupid always drew a bow ? 



printers' kisses. 
Print on my lip another kiss, 

The picture of thy glowing passion ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 33 

Nay, this won't do — nor this — nor this — 
But now — Ay, that's a proof impression ! 



EESPONSE. 

But yet, methinks, it might be mended— 

Oh yes, I see it in those eyes ; 
Our lips again together blended, 

Will make th' impression a eeyise. 

Mrs Caddie k. 



self-deception. 
From Goethe. 

The curtain flutters to and fro ; 

Aha, Miss Fanny, jow 
Are watching there, to see, I know, 

If I am watching too ; 
And if the fit of jealous rage 

Is hot upon me still. 
Yes ! nothing, nothing can assuage 

My wrath, or ever will. 
How ! What ! The little wretch for me 

No such fond vigil holds ; 
It is the evening breeze, I see, 

That waves the curtain's folds. 

Aytoun and Martin. 



BOOK III. 

EPIGRAMS ON MARRIAGE AND MARRIED LIFE. 

From Martial. 
Welsh judges two, four military men, 
Seven noisy lawyers, Oxford scholars ten, 
Were of an old man's daughter in pursuit. 
Soon the curmudgeon ended the dispute, 
By giving her unto a thriving grocer. 
What think you ? did he play the fool, or no, sir ? 

Hay. 

From Martial. 
Of rank, descent, and title proud, 

Mere gentry Lady Susan could not bear ; 
She'd wed but with a duke, she vow'd, 

And so absconded with a player. — N. B. Halhed. 



From Martial. 

You'd marry the marquis, fair lady, they say ; 

You're right, we've suspected it long, 
But his lordship declines in a complaisant way, 

And, faith, he's not much in the wrong. 

JV, B. Halhed. 



TO A FINE WOMAN, TOO FOND OF PEAISING HER 
HUSBAND. 

You always are making a god of your spouse ; 
But this neither reason nor conscience allows : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AXD NEW. 35 

Perhaps you will say, r Tis in gratitude due, 

And you adore him, because he adores you. 

Your argument's weak, and so you will find ; 

For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind. — Swift. 



OX A PALE LADY. 



TTeexce comes it, that, in Clara s face, 

The lily only has a place ; — 

Is it. that the absent rose 

Is gone to paint her husband's nose ? 



A LOYEES COXSOLATIOX. 

A misteess I've lost, it is true : 

But one comfort attends the disaster— 

That had she my mistress remain' d, 
I could not have call'd myself master. 



OX A LADY WHO BEAT HER HUSBAXD. 

Come hither. Sir John, my picture is here, 
What think you, my love, don't it strike you ? 

I can't say it does, just at present, my dear. 
But I think it soon will, 'tis so like you. 



COXXE"BIAL AFFECTIOX. 

It is a maxim in the schools, 
That women always doat on fools ; 
If so, dear Jack, I'm sure your wife 
Must love you as she does her life. 



A DAY ATTEE THE FAIR. 

POST-HASTE to church flew Xick and bride, 

The knot as speedily was tied ; 

Far from the busy town they seek 

A calm retreat, and stay'd a week, 

T\ Tien, with like speed as took them down, 

The pair arrive again in town. 



36 EPIGKAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Nick's friends now crowd to wish him joy, 
When cries the now experienced boy — 
' In vain you strive to soften fate, 
Your wishes are a week too late.' 



WOMAN'S WILL. 

Kind Katherine kiss'd her husband, with these words, 
* Mine own sweet Will, how dearly do I love thee ! ' 

' If true,' quoth Will, ' the world no such affords.' 
And that 'tis true I durst his warrant be, 

For ne'er heard I of woman, good or ill, 

But always loved best her own sweet will. 



ON BEING ADVISED TO MAEEY. 

Sir, you are prudent, good, and wise, 
I own, and thank you from my heart ; 

And much approve what you advise, 
But let me think, before I start. 

For folks well able to discern, 

Who know what 'tis to take a wife, 

Say, 'tis a case of such concern, 

A man should think on't — all his life. 



STEELING- VALUE. 



When Loveless married Lady Jenny,«» 
Whose beauty was the ready penny ; 

I chose her, says he, like old plate, 
Not for the fashion, but the weight. 



BAD IS THE BEST. 



' My wife's so very bad,' cried Will, 

I fear she ne'er will hold it — 
She keeps her bed.' — * Mine's worse,' said Pink 
' The jade has just now sold it.' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 
ON EOOTE MARRYING MISS PATTEN. 

With a Patten to wife, 
Through the rough road of life 

May you safely and merrily jog ; 
May the ring never break, 
Nor the tie prove too weak, 

Nor the Foote find the Patten a clog. 



connubial disappointment. 

I TOOK jou,' deceiver, c for better for worse/ 

Submitting to wedlock's hard fetter ; 
While your worse part has daily grown still more perverse, 

I have not discover'd your better. 



MATEIMONY. 

Tom praised his friend, who changed his state, 
For binding fast himself and Kate 

In union so divine : 
' Wedlock's the end of life,' he cried ; — 
/- ' Too, true, alas ! ' said Jack, and sigh'd — 

' 'Twill be the end of mine.' 



CONSOLATION. 

Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter, 
Yet let not Tom his stars too sorely curse ; 

As there's no hope his wife will e'er be better, 
So there's no fear she ever can be worse ! 



CHOICE AT TWENTY AND AT THIRTY. 

Maeia, just at twenty, swore 
That no man less than six feet four 

Should be her chosen one. 
At thirty she is glad to fix 
A spouse exactly four feet six, 

As better far than none. 



38 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



THE IRISH PLACE HUNTER. 

A place under government 
Was all that Paddy wanted ; 

He married soon a scolding wife, 
And thus his wish was granted. 



NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND. 

6 Come, wife,' said Will, f I pray you devote 
Just half a minute to mend this coat, 

Which a nail has chanced to rend.' 
* 'Tis ten o'clock,' said his drowsy mate. 
' I know,' said Will, ' it is rather late, 

But it 's never too late to mend ! ' 



MARRIAGE. 

He who marries once may be 
Pardon'd his infirmity ; 
He who marries twice is mad ; 

But if you should find a fool 
Marrying thrice, don't spare the lad ; 

Flog him, flog him back to school. — Gotz. 



WISE AND WISER. 

Abel wants to marry Mabel ; 
Well, that's very wise of Abel : 
But Mabel won't at all have Abel ; 
Well, that's wiser still of Mabel. — Marot. 



A SETTLER. 

By one decisive argument 

Giles gain'd his lovely Kate's consent 

To fix the bridal day. 
' Why in such haste, dear Giles, to wed ? 
I shall not change my mind,' she said ; 

' But then,' says he, ( I may.' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 39 

OX EVENING. 

John's wife and John were tete-a-tete 

She witty was, industrious he. 
Says John, ' I've earn'd the bread we've ate.' 

' And I,' says she, ' have urn'd the tea.' 



THE FORTUNATE WANT. 

How like is this picture, you'd think that it breathes ! 

"What life ! what expression ! what spirit ! 
It wants but a tongue. ' Oh no ! .' said the spouse, 

i That want is its principal merit. 5 



CONNUBIAL COMPANY. 

'- My dear, what makes you always yawn ? ' 
The wife exclaim'd, her temper gone ; 

' Is home so dull and dreary ? ' 
'Not so, my love,' he said, 'not so ; 
But man and wife are one, you know, 

And when alone I'm weary ! ' 



MEN AND WOMEN. 

Thoughtless that ' all that's brightest fades,' 
Unmindful of that knave of spades, 

The sexton and his subs : 
How foolishly we play our parts ! 
Our wives on diamonds set their hearts, 

We set our hearts on clubs. — Sidney Smith. 



TULIPS AND EOSES. 

My Rosa from the latticed grove, 

Brought me a sweet bouquet of posies, 
And ask'd, as round my neck she clung, 

If tulips I preferred to roses ? 
' I cannot tell, sweet wife/ I sigh'd, 

' But kiss me ere I see the posies.' 
She did — ' Oh, I prefer,' I cried, 

1 Thy two lips to a dozen roses.' 



40 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

OF TWO EVILS, CHOOSE THE LEAST. 

' Good-morning, dear Major,' quoth Lieutenant B— 

' So you're married, I hear, to the little Miss E ; 

Is it true that she scarcely comes up to your knee ? 
' It is, dear Lieutenant, and this I contest, 
That of all human evils the least is the best.' 



CONUNDRUM. 



Which is of greater value, prithee, say, 

The bride or bridegroom ? — must the truth be told ? 
Alas, it must ! The bride is given away ; 

The bridegroom's often regularly sold. — Punch. 



ON THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ACT, 1772. 

Quoth Dick to Tom, c This Act appears 

Absurd, as I'm alive ; 
To take the crown at eighteen years — 

The wife at twenty-five. 

' The mystery how shall we explain ? 

For sure, as well 'twas said, 
Thus early if they're fit to reign, 

They must be fit to wed.' 

Quoth Tom to Dick, * Thou art a fool, 

And little know'st of life — 
Alas ! 'tis easier to rule 

A kingdom than a wife ! i 



MARRIAGE UNEQUAL. 

From Goethe. 

Alas, that even in a heavenly marriage, 
The fairest lots should ne'er be reconciled ; 

Psyche waxed old and prudent in her carriage, 
Whilst Cupid evermore remains a child. 

Aytoun and Martin. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 41 

TO A EICH YOUNG WIDOW. 

I will not ask if thou can'st touch 

The tuneful ivory key, 
Those silent notes of thine are such 

As quite suffice for me. 
I'll make no question if thy skill 

The pencil comprehends, 
Enough for me, love, if thou still 

Can'st draw, — thy dividends. — Punch, 1852. 



ON A LADY FOND OF CARDS WHO MARRIED HER 
GARDENER. 

Trumps ever rule the charming maid ; 

Sure all the world must pardon her, 
If now they have turn'd up a spade ; — 

She married John the Gardener. 



THE FORTUNE TOLD. 

1 I can tell you the first letter 

Of your handsome sailor's name.' 
' I know every one, that's better, 

Thank you, gipsy, all the same.' 
* Ah ! my maiden, runs your text so, 

Then I see your doom is past, — 
And the day is Monday next.' ' No, 

Gipsy, it was Monday last.' 



EXCULPATION. 

From Goethe. 
Wilt thou dare to blame the woman for her seeming 
sudden changes, 
Swaying east and swaying westward, as the breezes 
shake the tree ? 
Fool, thy selfish thought misguides thee ; find the man that 
never ranges. 
Woman wavers but to seek him. Is not, then, the fault 
in thee ? Aytoun and Martin. 



42 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



FOR BETTER AND WORSE. 

' Nay, prithee, dear Thomas, ne'er rave thus and curse, 
Eemember you took me "for better, for worse." ' 
' I know it,' quoth Thomas ; ' but then, madam, look you, 
You prove, upon trial, much worse than I took you.' 



hymen's dealings. 

Though matches are all made in heaven, they say, 

Yet Hymen, who mischief oft hatches, 
Sometimes deals with the house t'other side of the way. 

And there they make Lucifer matches. — Lover. 



43 



BOOK IV. 

EPIGEAMS ON SOCIAL LIFE AND SOCIAL 
FOLLIES. 

From Martial. 
Strephon most fierce besieges Chloe, 
A nymph not over young nor showy ; 
What then can Strephon's love provoke ? 
A charming paralytic stroke. 



From Martial. 
Though ' papa ' and ' mamma,' my dear, 

So prettily you call, 
Yet you, niethinks, yourself appear 

The grand-mamma of all. — Bouquet, 1784-. 



THE DINNER HUNTER. 

From Martial. 
Angling for dinner, Charles, at every line 

I read him, puts me to the blush : 
* Delicious ! ' ' charming ! ' ' exquisite ! ' ' divine ! 
c Hush, Charles, you've earn'd your victuals, hush ! ' 

]\ r . B. Halhed, 



From Martial. 
Jack buys an ancient cottage, dismal, foul, 
And scarce a decent harbour for an owl, 
Near to a hospitable neighbour's seat : 
Jack will not lodge as well as he will eat. — Hay. 



44 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

From Martial. 

The golden hair that Galla wears 
Is hers : who would have thought it ? 

She swears 'tis hers 5 and true she swears, 
For I know where she bought it. 

Sir John Harrington. 



ON A NEWLY-MADE BARONET. 

From Martial. 
Though I do ' Sir ' thee, be not vain, I pray, 
I ' Sir ' my monkey Jacko every day. 



From Martial. 

Lend Spunge a guinea ! Ned, you'd best refuse, 
And give him half. Sure that's enough to lose. 



From Martial. 

Poor poet Doggrel's house consumed by fire ! 

Is the muse pleased ? or father of the lyre ? 

O cruel fate ! what injury you do 

To burn the house, and not the master too ! — Hay. 



From Martial. 

■His lordship bought his last gay birthday dress, 
And gay it was, for fourscore pound or less. 
Is he so good at buying cheap ? you say — 
Extremely good, for he does never pay. — Hay. 



From Martial. 

You ask a hundred guests unknown to me, 
And wonder, Richard, I refuse to come. 

Richard, I go abroad for company, 

For solitude I like to stay at home. — Hodgson. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 45 

From Martial. 
Jack boasts he never dines at home, 

With reason too, no doubt ; 
In truth, Jack never dines at all 

Unless invited out. 



From Martial. 

Kate's teeth are black ; white lately Bell's are grown ; 
Bell buys her teeth, and Kate still keeps her own. 

Hodgson. 



From the French. 

Oxe day the great Henry, his courtiers among, 
Perceived an odd figure, but sorrily dress'd, 
Whose air, face, and manner were none of the best : 

The Monarch, who eyed our unknown 'mid the throng, 
Wish'd to learn what his name, and what rank he pos- 
sess' d : 
He calls him, ' And, pray, your employment explain ; 
Whom serve you ? ' The simpleton, turgid and vain, 

Made answer, { To none but myself I belong.' 

' How I pity, my friend,' said the king, ' your disaster, 
You could never have had a worse fool for a master.' 



IN A STATUE OF JUSTICE, REMOVED IXTO THE 
MARKET-PLACE, 

Q. Tell me why Justice meets our eye, 
Baised in the market-place on high ? 

A. The reason, friend, may soon be told — 

'Tis meant to show she's .to be sold, — Xhiretiere* 

THE APRIL-FOOL-MAKER. 

1 To-day, 5 said Dick, ' is April day, 

And though so mighty wise you be, 
A bet, whate'er you like, I'll lay. 
Ere night I make a fool of thee.' 



46 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

e A fool I may be, it is true ; 

But, Dick,' cried Tom, c ne'er be afraid ; 
No man can make a fool of you, 
For you're a fool already made.' 



A WORD AND A BLOW. 



Thomas is sure a most courageous man, 
* A word and a blow,' for ever is his plan ; 
And thus his friends explain the curious matter- 
He gives the first, and then receives the latter. 



ON A STONE THROWN AT A VERY GREAT MAN, 
BUT WHICH MISSED HIM. 

Talk no more of the lucky escape of the head, 
From a flint so unluckily thrown — 

I think very different, with thousands indeed, 
'Twas a lucky escape for the stone. 



UNIVERSITIES. 

No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound, 
In learning and science so greatly abound ; 
Since some carry thither a little each day, 
And we meet with so few who bring any away. 



MANNERS MAKE THE MAN. 

i This splendid dress was made for me,' 
Cries Sugar Plum, the saucy cit : 
Observers answer, ' That may be ; 
But you were never made for it.' 



From Le Brun. 

Oh, shame to the manners, the times, and the age ! 

Our virtues no longer can women engage. 

Modern fair ones like lots at an auction are sold ; 

They are knock'd down to him who will bid the most gold. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 47 

THE EETOET COURTEOUS. 

As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage, 
And, face to face, the noisy contest wage ; 
1 Don't cock your chin at me,' Dick smartly cries. 
' Fear not ! his head's not charged,' 1 a friend replies. 



ON KNOWING ONE'S FKIENDS. 

Said a thief to a wit, ' There's no knowing one's friends 
Until they've been tried and found steady/ 

Said the wit to the thief, ' All yours, I presume, 
Have been tried and found guilty already.' 



AN EXPLANATION. 

A teav'ller, some little time back, 

Was telling another a history, 
Whose manners betray'd a great lack 

Of sense to unravel the mystery. 
' Why, sir, it is strange you can't see ! 

Or, perhaps, it don't meet your belief : 
'Tis as simple as plain A B C 

' Yes,' cries t'other, < but I'm D E F.' 



THE WATCH LOST IN A TAVERN. 

A watch lost in a tavern ! that's a crime ; 
Then see how men by drinking lose their time. 
The Watch kept Time ; and if Time will away, 
I see no reason why the Watch should stay. 
You say the key hung out, and you forgot to lock it, 
Time will not be kept pris'ner in a Pocket. 
Henceforth, if you will keep your Watch, this do, 
Pocket your Watch, and watch your Pocket too. 

Westminster Drollery. 

A RETORT. 

Quoth Doctor Squill of Ponder' s End, 
' Of all the patients I attend, 
Whate'er their aches or ails, 



48 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

None ever will my fame attack.' 

' None ever can,' retorted Jack ; 

' For dead men tell no tales.' 

ON ENCLOSING- COMMONS. 

Tis bad enough in man or woman 
To steal a goose from off a common ; 
But surely he's without excuse 
Who steals a common from a goose. 



THE REBUKE. 

A haughty courtier, meeting in the streets- 
A scholar, him thus insolently greets — 
6 Base men to take the wall I ne'er permit' 
The scholar said, ' I do,' and gave him it. 



ON RECEIVING A PRESENT OF A BRACE OF WOODCOCKS. 

My thanks I'll no longer delay 

For birds which you've shot with such skill ; 
But though there was nothing to pay, 

Yet each of them brought in a bill ! 

I mean not, my friend, to complain, 

The matter was perfectly right ; 
And when bills such as these come again, 

I'll always accept them at sight. 



THE RULE OF THE ROAD. 

The rule of the road is a paradox quite 

Both in riding and driving along ; 
If you go to the left you are sure to go right, 

If you go to the right you go wrong : 
But in walking the streets 'tis a different case, 

To the right it is right you should bear, 
To the left should be left quite enough of free space 

For the persons you chance to meet there. — Punch. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 49 

EQUALITY OF TAXATION. 

'Taxes are equal, is a dogma which 
I'll prove at once,' exclaim'd a Tory boor : 
* Taxation hardly presses on the rich, 
And likewise presses hardly on the poor.' 



THE FASHION OF CRINOLINES. 

To beat their poor old Grandames' hoops 

Our modern dames endeavour : 
'Tis the old rage again come round, 
^ And digger round than ever ! — W. H. Draper. 

THE LAW. 

The law decides questions of Ileum and Tuum, 
By kindly arranging to make the thing Suum. 



KNOW THYSELF. 



One bowing to me, I'd seen long ago, 
Said I, ' Who art ? ' He said, 'I do not know.' 
I said, ' I know thee.' * I,' said he, ' know you ; 
But he who knows himself I never knew.' 



A MINIATURE CRITICISED. 

' What ! hang from the neck of a lady ! ' cries Bill, 
1 Was ever such folly or impudence known ? 

As to hanging, indeed, he may hang where he will, 
But as to the neck, let it be by his own.' 



A COCKNEY SPORTSMAN. 

A cockney sportsman, gunning, to a country squire declares, 

That he, one morn, ere breakfast time, shot three-and 
thirty hares. 

' Indeed ! shot three- and -thirty hares ? ' ' Yes, truly ! ' look- 
ing big. 

t Then,' says the squire, ' you surely must have fired at a 



50 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



ECONOMY. 

Tom taken by Tim his new mansion to view, 

He observed — ' 'twas a big one, with windows too few.' 

6 As for that,' replied Tim, ' I'm the builder's forgiver, 

For taxes 'twill save, and that's good for the liver. 5 

' True,' says Tom, ' as you live upon farthings and mites, 

For the liver 'tis good — but 'tis bad for the lights.' 



ON LORD HUNTINGTOWER'S BANKRUPTCY. 

The office of law-maker clearly you see 

His Lordship is able to fill, 
For no one on earth could more competent be 

To the duty of drawing a till. — Punch. 



THE COLOSSEUM. 

Many with this inquiry go about, 

' Who bought the Colosseum out and out ? ' 

George Kobins answers with contented grin, 

' None bought it out and out ; I bought it in.' — Punch. 



MONEY. 



He that has money is bother'd about it, 
And he that has none is bother'd without it. 



ON A BALD HEAD. 

My hair and I are quits, d'ye see, 
I first cut him, he now cuts me. 

CRINOLINE. 

When lovely woman, hoop'd in folly, 
Grows more expansive every day, 

And makes her husband melancholy 
To think what bills he'll have to pay 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 51 

When in the width of passion swelling 

With air-balloons her skirt may vie, 
The truth — (what hinders Punch from telling ?) 

Is that she looks a perfect — Guy. — Punch. 



JUSTICE AND CHARITY. 

The courts in Guildhall, for the Polish ball 

Closed their sittings no doubt from suspicion 
That in the hilarity, Justice and Charity, 

Being strangers, might come in collision. — Punch. 



MUCH CRY BUT LITTLE WOOL, BY LORD WEAVES. 

Friend Hog once promised me a pair of breeches, 
Wove from the fleecy flocks that swell his riches. 
I trusted him, forgetting, like a fool, 
That Hogs afford much cry, but little wool. 



CECIL STREET, STRAND. 

At the top of the street many lawyers abound, 

Below at the bottom the barges are found ; 

Fly, Honesty, fly to a safer retreat. 

For there's craft in the river and craft in the street. 

Punch. 



OX RED HAIR, 

Why scorn red hair ? — the Greeks we know 
(I note it here *in charity) 
Had taste in beauty, and with them 
The Graces all were xdpiTcii. — Punch. 



EFFECTS WITHOUT A CAUSE. 

Though sages swear, 'Without a cause 
There's no effect,' — its mockery; 

There are exceptions to all laws, — 

Who breaks domestic crockery ? — Punch. 



52 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 

Said Stiggins to his wife one day, 

' We've nothing left to eat ; 
If things go on in this queer way 

We shan't make both ends meet.' 
The dame replied in words discreet, 

' We're not so badly fed, 
If we can make but one end meat, 

And make the other bread. — Punch. 



DRESS V. DINNER. 

What is the reason, can you guess. 

Why men are poor, and women thinner ? 

So much do they for dinner dress, 

There's nothing left to dress for dinner. 



MODERN REFINEMENT. 

1 Mamma,' said Mrs Meagrim's daughter, 

' The superfluity of water 

Destroys its flavourality, 

And quite obnoxious makes the tea. 



BOOK V. 

EPIGRAMS ON PERSONS —LAUDATORY AND 
OTHERWISE. 

ON AN IGNORANT PHYSICIAN. . 

From the Greek. 
My friend, an eminent physician, 
Trusted his son to ray tuition : 
The. father wish'd me to explain 
The beauties of old Homer's strain. 
But scarce these lines the youth had read, 
' Of thousands number'd with the dead, 

* Of ghastly wounds and closing eyes, 

* Of broken limbs and heartfelt sighs ' — 

* Great sage,' exclaims the youth, ' adieu : 
My sire can teach as well as you. ' 



ON A BAD MUSICIAN. 

From the Greek. 
Simillus, long in nature's spite, 

His patient powers of music tried ; 
And toil'd through each discordant night, 

Till every neighbour fled, or died. 

Except Origenes, to whom 

Kind fate (the fame misfortune fearing), 
To save him from an early tomb, 

Denied the dangerous sense of hearing. 



54 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON THE POETEAITS OF PHAETON AND DEUCALION 
BY AN INDIFFEEENT PAINT EE. 

From the Greek. 
Menestbatus, no doubt you deem 

Your toils a due reward require : 
I'll throw Deucalion in yon stream, 

And fling your Phaeton in the fire. 



to a calumniatoe. 
From the Greek. 
Whilst in my absence, sir, you rail, 
Your labour of its end must fail : 

For who will then attend ? 
But when you praise me to my face, 
I own I feel the sad disgrace 
Of being call'd your friend. 



ON THE STATUE OF NIOBE. 

From the Greek. 
To stone the gods have changed her — but in vain- 
The sculptor's art has made her breathe again. 



TO A COXCOMB WITH A FEIGHTFUL COUNTENANCE. 

From the Greek. 
No more near yonder fountain stray, 
Nor in yon stream your face survey, 

Shunning Narcissus' cruel fate : 
He was by sad self-love betray'd 
To languish for a beauteous shade : 

And you will die with grief and hate. 



From the Greek. 

Cypeus must now two Yenuses adore ; 
Ten are the Muses, and the Graces four ; 
So charming's Flavia's wit, so sweet her face, 
She's a new Muse, a Yenus, and a Grace. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 55 

ON ANACKEON. 

See old Anacreon hither reels : 
His tatter'd garment sweeps his heels; 
One careless slipper left behind 
Betrays the wandering of his mind : 
In transport, lo ! he strikes the strings ; 
Of wine, and potent love he sings. 
Haste, Bacchus, haste ! attend my call ; 
Or soon your favourite Bard will fall. 

ON LEONID AS AND HIS 300 SPARTANS. 

From the Greek. 
To stop the Persian monarch's way, 

In vain the swelling ocean rose ; 
In vain, his progress to delay, 

The lofty mountains interpose. 

Roused by the Spartan chief to fight, 
When, lo ! his slender band obeys, 

These turn'd th' unnumber'd hosts to flight : 
Blush, then, ye mountains and ye seas ! 



ON AN EMPTY MONUMENT RAISED TO THEMISTOCLES. 

From the Greek. 
To brave Themistocles, of deathless fame, 

Magnesia's grateful sons this marble raise : 
His mighty arm, and far-extended name. 

Bade Freedom's sacred flame more brightly blaze. 

To some remoter clime, and happier shore, 
Envy the Hero's ashes has convey' d : 

Magnesia's race with pious grief deplore 
These empty honours to such valour paid ! 



ON A PICTURE OF PHILOCTETES BY PARRHASIUS. 

From, the Greek. 
Your art, ingenious painter, can renew, 
The hero's sorrows, and his death-like hue, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Trace in the hollow eye the lingering tear, 
That speaks in silence all his inward care. 
Cease, artist, though thy skill we all commend, 
Must Philoctetes' misery never end ? 



ON PHILIP, FATHER OF ALEXANDER. 

From the Greek. 
Here rest I, Philiji, on th' JEgean shore, 
Who first to battle led JEmathia's pow'r, 
And dared what never monarch dared before : 
If there be man who boasts he more has done, 
To me he owes it, for he was my son. 



ON THE STATUE OF ALEXANDER. 

From tlie Greek. 
The sculptor's art can brass with life inspire, 
Show Alexander's features and his tire : 
The statue seems to say, with upcast eye, 
Beneath my rule the globe of earth shall lie ; 
Be thou, Jove, contented with thy sky. 



ON PLUTARCH'S STATUE. 

From the Greek. 
Wise, honest Plutarch ! to thy deathless praise, 
The sons of Eome this grateful statue raise : 
For why ? both Greece and Eome thy fame have shared, 
Their heroes written, and their lives compared. 
But thou thyself couldst never write thy own ; 
Their lives had parallels — but thine has none. — Dry den. 

From Martial. 
Fine lectures Attalus rehearses, 
Pleads finely, writes fine tales and verses ; 
Fine epigrams, fine farces vie 
With grammar and astrology ; 
He finely sings and dances finely, 
Plays tennis, fiddles most divinely. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 57 

All finely done and nothing well ; 
Then if a man the truth may tell, 
This all-accomplish' d punchinello, 
Is a most busy, idle fellow. — Elton. 



ON AN ELEPHANT KNEELING TO CAESAR. 

From Martial. 

None taught him homage, but by instinct he 
Kneel'd down to you because a deity. — Peclte. 



From Martial. 
In all thy humours, whether grave, or mellow, 
Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, 
Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee, 
There is no living with thee or without thee. 

1 Addison. 



HARD DRIVING. 

Thy nags (the leanest things alive) 

So very hard thou lov'st to drive, 

I heard thy anxious coachman say, 

It cost thee more in whips than hay. — Prior. 



THE MASQUERADE. 

' To this night's masquerade,' quoth Dick, 

' By Pleasure I am beckon 'd, 
And think 'twould be a pleasant trick 

To go as Charles the Second.' 

Tom felt for repartee a thirst, 

And thus to Kichard said : 
' You'd better go as Charles the First, 

For that requires no head.' 

REASON FOR THICK ANKLES. 

' Harry, I cannot think,' says Dick, 
1 What makes my ankles grow so thick ? ' 



58 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

' You do not recollect,' says Harry, 
' How great a calf they have to carry 



From Brebeuf. 

Hebe lies a man who into highest station, 
By dint of bribes and arts, contrived to slide ; 

And ne'er one service render' d to the nation, 
Except the lucky day on which he died. 



COEINNA. 

Cobinna's quite a fright to me, 
While Ned can only beauty see, 

With every grace her form adorning. 
We both are wrong, and both are right ; 
Ned sees her still by candle-light, 

But I have seen her in the morning ! 



A BACHELOR. 

From the French. 

Hebe lies a man who never married, 
He to the world, alas ! was know a 
By folly and by vice alone. 

Ah ! on the tomb to which his sire was carried, 
Well had it been could all have read 
This short memorial of the dead, — 

Here lies a man who never married ! 



OIn t an obganist, 
Wltose monument was raised by a music subscription . 
Hebe, beneath this cold stone^ 
Lies harmonious John, 
Who judiciously could impart 
Sounds adapted to move 
Or, grief, rapture, or love, 
Depress, raise, or ravish the heart. 

Nor let ancient songs claim 
To themselves all the fame, 
Comparisons leave them no room : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 59 

Their harmonious powers 
Built but walls and high towers, 
We've raised with our music this tomb. 



UBIQUITOUS JACK. 

Of all the men one meets about, 

There's none like Jack, he's everywhere ; 

At church, park, auction, dinner, rout, 
Go where and when you will, he's there. 

Try the West End, he"s at your back ; 

Meets you, like Eurus, in the East : 
You're call'd upon for i How do, Jack ? ' 

One hundred times a-day, at least. 

A friend of his one evening said, 
As home he took his pensive way, 

* Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead, 
I've seen him but three times to-day.' 



From Chateau gir on. 
Pleasant, airy, and gay, my laughter exciting, 

Is the poet who pourM forth these numbers ; 
While this, cold and heavy, coy Somnus inviting, 

Has the power of promoting my slumbers : 
The one at my breakfast is constantly read, 
And the other I take when I'm going to bed. 



ONCE TOO MUCH. 



Young- Courtly takes me for a dunce, 
For all night long I spoke but once : 
On better grounds I think him such, 
He spoke but once, yet once too much. 



ON SOLOMON MENDEZ, ESQ. 

Hebe lies a man who never lived, 
Yet still from death was flying; 

Who, if not sick, was never well, 
And died for fear of dying ! 



60 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 



THE UNSOLDIER-LIKE OFFICER. 

' That soldier so rude, — he that swaggers in scarlet, 
Put him out of the court, I'll imprison the varlet/ 
As in judgment he sat, knowing Robinson said. 
' A soldier I'm not,' quoth the hero in red ; 
6 No soldier, my lord, but an officer I, 
A captain, who carries his sword on his thigh.' 
Stern Eobinson, then, with sarcastical sneer, 
Roll'd his sharp eagle-eye on the vain volunteer, 
And i Tipstaff/ he cried, as the captain grew bolder, 
' Out, out with that officer, who is no soldier.'' 



THE CONSIDERATE FAIR. 

Chloe's the wonder of her sex : 
'Tis well her heart is tender ; 

How might such killing eyes perplex, 
With virtue to defend her ? 

But nature graciously inclined, 
Not bent to vex but please us, 

Has to her boundless beauty join'd 
A boundless will to ease us. 



MIDAS AND HIS OPPOSITES. 



Midas, they say, possess' d the art, of old, 

Of turning whatsoe'er he touch'd to gold. 

This modern statesmen can reverse with ease, 

Touch them with gold, they'll turn to what you please. 



From Panis. 

Though Ne4 is short, he doubtless stands 
A masterpiece from Nature's hands ! 
His words and actions, past dispute, 
Exactly with his stature suit : 
In mind and body, all agree, 
A perfect miniature is he. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 61 



THE WAVERER. 

Tom, weak and wavering, ever in a fright 

Lest he do something wrong, does nothing right. 



TO A DOG, 

Who attached an obnoxious Statesman, 

O DOG ! how hast thou lost the glory 

Of shining in immortal story ! 

Had thine been luckily the merit 

Of sterling English mastiff spirit, 

A surer hold thou wouldst have taken, 

And life have from his carcase shaken. 

Pale Liberty, her head uprearing, 

Had smiled again, our bosoms cheering ; 

And more than one glad grateful nation 

Had blest thee for its preservation ! 



From La Fresnaye. 
Jack says, 'tis prophesied, this very year 

The death of many a worthy man we'll see. 
But courage, Jack ! for thou hast nought to fear ; 

This terrible prediction threats not thee. 



THE TWO BOOKSELLERS. 

From the French. 
Old John, a bookseller, renown'd in the trade, 
By this traffic a fortune prodigious has made ; 
While young John, his son, who scrawls prose, Sir, and 

verse, 
By the bookselling trade has quite emptied his purse. 
Can you guess why so different a fate is assign'd 
For a pair to the same occupation confined ? 
Old John speculates, like a shrewd one, alone, 
On the works of those authors for merit well known ; 
But young John alas ! speculates on his own. 



62 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

TO GANELON. 

From Scarron. 

The only means left thee to please the whole nation, 

Which thy life and thy crimes views with deep detestation, 

Is thyself, without further delay, to exhibit 

To the general gaze, from the height of a gibbet ; 

And gladly by me should the cost be defray'd, 

Were I perfectly sure I should ne'er be repaid. 

From JXAmlly. 

Look at me well ; then Adeline behold : 

In the same week we both began to live, 
Three days between our births our parents told : 
But surely fate has used me very ill ; 

Six months ago I counted thirty-five — 
That charming object is but twenty still. 



From Breoeuf. 

'• Lysander is a foolish wight ! ' 

The sneering Damon often cries ; 
And Damon certainly is right, 

For once Lysander thought him wise. 



ON SEEING A FOX-HUNTER PAINTED WITH A BOOK 
IN HIS HAND. 

Let poets and painters their fancy pursue, 

So they keep probability always in view ; 

But what censure does that silly fellow require, 

Who has painted a book in the hands of a squire ? 



THE ATHEIST CORRECTED. 



Indeed, Mr , it seems very odd, 

Whilst your eyes view his works, to deny there's a God ; 






EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 63 

And assert that our actions he'll neither regard, 

Nor punish our vices, nor our virtues reward. 

What, no vengeance to come ? Well, if this be but true, 

How happy 'twill be for the devil and you ! 



D.D. AND M.D. 

How D.D. swaggers, M.D. rolls ! 

I dub them both a brace of noddies : 
Old D.D. has the cure of souls, 

And M.D. has the care of bodies. 

Between them both what treatment rare 
Our souls and bodies must endure ! 

One has the cure without the care, 
And one the care without the cure. 



ANCIENT MUSIC. 

A VIRTUOSO friend, a man of worth, 

With much surprise address'd my good Lord North : 

* I wonder how your Lordship can forbear 

The pleasure of our famous club to share, 

Who meet the ancient music to restore — 

Such harmony you never heard before. 

Pray come, my Lord ; the effect's beyond belief ; 

Brownlow attends.' — ' Yes, Sir ; but Tm not deaf.' 



THE SYCOPHANT HATER. 

Joe hates a sycophant. It shows 
Self-love is not a fault of Joe's. 



WIT AND NOVELTY. 

Andrews, 'tis said, a comedy has writ 
Replete throughout with novelty and wit. 

If it has wit, to both will I agree ; 

For wit from Andrews must be novelty. 



64 EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. 

TO BUFO. 

If it be true, on Watts's plan 
That ' mind's the standard of the man ; ' 
< Though, Bufo, you are six feet three, 
Why, what a pigmy you must be ! 



WANT OF CHAEACTEE. 

Foe Jack's good life to certify, 

Nor friends nor strangers can be got ; 

Those, who don't know him, know not why; 
Those who do know him, know why not ! 

From the French. 
At the court of a monarch for grandeur renown'd, 
A child six years old such a talent displayed, 
That the courtiers, by hundreds, who listen'd around, 
Were bewilder' d, to hear the remarks that he made. 
One of these vow'd the infant would turn out a looby, 
Because, when grown up, one is ever a booby 
Whose infancy teem'd with a wit so commanding : 
The boy, who o'erheard him, replied with a leer, 
' My lord, by this rule, in your childhood 'tis clear 
That your lordship enjoy'd a profound understanding.* 

ROSALINDA. 

To Bosalinda's eyes who not submit, 
Fall the proud victims of her conquering wit ; 
And all, whose dulness dares her wit despise, 
Bow to the piercing influence of her eyes. 
Thou, then, who wishest not her slave to be, 
Become but deaf and blind, and thou art free. 

ON A LADY'S FAN OF HER OWN PAINTING. 

Of danger careless, while the youth admires 
The emblematic toy on which thy art, 

In rich device, has shadow' d Hymen's fires, 
Love's sacred altar, and the votive heart ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 65 

As from the author to the work he turns, 
The insidious flame steals on him by degrees, 

Till with the rapture all his bosom burns, 
And his heart proves the sacrifice he sees. 



ON A GIRL NINE YEARS OLD. 

Love's Queen, if what the poets say be true, 
And Wisdom's Goddess, childhood never knew. 
Pallas, 'tis said, sprang from the brain of Jove, 
Full-arm'd, and from the sea the Queen of Love. 
But had they, Miss, your wit and beauty seen, 
Yenus and Pallas both had children been ; 
They from the brightness of that radiant look 
A copy of young Yenus might have took. 
And from the pretty things you say, have told 
Plow Pallas talk'd when she was nine years old. 



ON TWO TWIN- SISTERS. 

Fair marble, tell, to future days, 
That here two virgin-sisters lie, 

Whose life employ'd each tongue in praise, 
Whose death gave tears to ev'ry eye. 

In stature, beauty, years, and fame, 
Together as they grew, they shone ; 

So much alike, so much the same, 

That death mistook them both for one. 



ON THREE HIGHLAND LADIES. 

From Scotia's mountains, hid in clouds, 
What heavenly forms descend ! 

No more, ye maids of English birth, 
To beauty's crown pretend. 

Forbear to boast your rosy bloom, 

A transitory dye ; 
Faint near these denizens of air, 

And inmates of the sky. 
5 



66 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Nor strange, their beauty earlier dawns, 

And later knows decay ; 
Who, when from heaven their sisters fell, 

Dropt only half the way. 



TO A YOUNG LADY, 

W7io spohe in praise of liberty. 

Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you ; 
If freedom we seek — fair Maria, adieu ! 



ON A LADY WHO WAS BLIND. 

Though beauteous Flavia heaven deprives of sight 
To view those charms that give the world delight ; 
Let not her heart, inspired with grief, complain — 
Had she beheld her form, she had been vain. 
One sense, in pure compassion, Heaven denies, 
And, to secure her virtue, dims her eyes. 



THE MONUMENT. 

Post Funera Virtus. 
A monster, in a course of vice grown old, 
Leaves to his gaping heir his ill-gain'd gold ; 
Straight breathes his last, straight are his virtues shown, 
Their date commencing with the sculptured stone. 



ON A YOUNG LADY WITH GREY HAIRS. 

Mark'd by extremes, Susannah's beauty bears 
Life's opposite extremes — youth's blossoms and grey hairs. 
Meet signs for one in whom combined are seen 
Wisdom's ripe fruit and roses of fifteen. 



TO A LADY, 

Wlio ashed the English of the GreeTt words to KaXov, 
the beautiful. 
Oh, but look in that mirror, and that will reflect 
What Plato presumed to explain : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 67 

Nay, blush not, Amelia, this heart would reject 

Adulation's impertinent strain/ 
For I ne'er could affix, I aver, to the phrase, 

An image so just and so true; 
Till that form I beheld with a soul-flushing gaze, 

And saw it embodied in you. 



ON MR NOTT. 

There was a man who was Nott born, 
His father was Nott before him, 

He did Nott live, he did Nott die. 
And his epitaph was Nott o'er him. 



ON MR WINTER. 

Here comes Mr Winter, Collector of Taxes, 
I advise you to give him whatever he axes, 
And that, too, without any nonsense or flummery, 
For though his name's Winter, his actions are summary . 

Tlieodore Hook, 



ON MR HUSBAND. 

This case is the strangest we've known in our life, 
The husband's a Husband, and so is the wife. 



on two misers, 
Wlw Tnonojjolized the com at Manchester. 

Two brethren thin, cail'd Bone and Skin, 
Have starved the town — or near it ; — 

But be it known, to skin and bone, 

That flesh and blood won't bear it, — Biron. 



ON A VILE MAN WHO HAD A NOBLE MONUMENT. 

If on his specious marble we rely, 
Pity a worth like his should ever die ; 
If credit to his real life we give, 
Pity a wretch like him should ever live. 



63 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON A WORTHLESS PREDESTINARIAN. 

Here lies a man who by relation 
Depended upon predestination ; 
For which the learned and the wise 
His understanding did despise : 
But I pronounce, with loyal tongue, 
Him in the right, them in the wrong ; 
For how could such a wretch succeed, 
But that, alas ! it was decreed ? 

ON THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER OF PEMBROKE. 

Underneath this sable hearse, 

Lies the subject of all verse, 

Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother : 

Death, ere thou hast slain another, 

Fair, and wise, and good as she, 

Time shall throw his dart at thee. — Ben Jonson. 

Underneath this stone doth lie 

As much virtue as could die ; 

Which, when alive, did vigour give 

To as much beauty as could live : 

If she had a single fault, h 

Leave it buried in this vault. — Ben Jonson. 



ON SHAKESPEARE'S MONUMENT, AT STRATFORD- 
UPON-AVON 

Great Homer's birth seven rival cities claim ; 

Too mighty such monopoly of fame : 

Yet not to birth alone did Homer owe 

His wondrous worth ; what Egypt could bestow, 

With all the schools of Greece and Asia join'd, 

Enlarged the immense expansion of his mind. 

Nor yet unrivall'd the Mason ian strain, 

The British eagle and the Mantuan swan 

Tower equal heights. But, happier Stratford, thou 

With uncontested laurels deck thy brow ; 

Thy bard was thine unschool'd, and from thee brought 

More than all Egypt, Greece, or Asia taught. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW.. G9 

Not Homer's self such matchless honours won ; 
The Greek has rivals, but thy Shakespeare none. 



ON CHARLES II. 

Here lies our mutton- eating king. 

Whose word no man relies on ; 
He never said a foolish thing, 

He never did a wise one. 



ON CHARLES II. 

By Andrew Marvell. 
Of a tall stature and a sable hue, 
Much like the son of Kish, that lofty Jew : 
Ten years of need he suffer'd in exile, 
And kept his father's asses all the while. 



ON COLBERT, MINISTER OF LOUTS XIV. 

From the French. 

Here lies the father of taxation : 
May Heaven, his faults forgiving, 
Grant him repose ; which he, while living, 

Would never grant the nation. 



ON MILTON. 

Three poets, in three distant ages born, 
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. 
The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd ; 
The next in majesty ; in both the last. 
The force of nature could no farther go — 
To make a third, she join'd the other two. 

Dry den. 



ON MR MILTON, LIVERY-STABLE KEEPER. 

Two Milton s in separate ages were born ; 
The cleverer Milton 'tis clear we have got ; 



70 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Though the other had talents the world to adorn, 
This lives by his mews which the other could not ! 

Hook. 



AN EPITAPH. 

Heee lies the great — False marble, tell me where ? 
Nothing but poor and sordid dust lies here. — Cowley. 



EPITAPH ON SIR JOHN VANBURGH. 

Lie heavy on him, earth ! for he 
Laid many heavy loads on thee ! 



ON DR FELL, BISHOP OF OXFORD, D. 1686. 

In imitation of Martial. 

I do not love thee, Dr Fell ; 
The reason why I cannot tell. 
But this I'm sure I know full well, 
I do not love thee, Dr Fell. 



ON THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S DISGRACE AT COURT, 

1687. 
When great men fall, great griefs arise 
In one, two, three, four families : 
When this man fell there rose great sorrow 
In Eome, Geneva, Sodom, and Gomorrah. 



ON WILLIAM III. DURING TWO CAMPAIGNS IN 
FLANDERS. 

The author sure must take great pains, 

Who pretends to write his story, 
In which of these two last campaigns 

He's acquired the greatest glory : 
For while that he march' d on to fight 

Like hero nothing fearing, 
Namur was taken in his sight, 

And Mons within his hearing. 






EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 71 



ON SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

Nature, and nature's laws, lay hid in night : 

God said, ' Let Newton be ! ' and all was light. — Pope. 



ON DRYDEN'S WANTING- AN EPITAPH. 

That thou, great genius ! here on earth art thrown, 

With no inscription on the sacred stone, 

Is not thy brother poets' fault, but shame ; 

Since, unenjoying thy celestial name, 

They know not how to propagate thy fame. 

Thyself alone could thy own glory raise ; 

Thy verse alone record thy verse's praise : 

So thy own thoughts should thy own lines refme, 

As dust of diamonds makes the diamonds shine. 



ON THE CELEBRATED DISPUTE BETWEEN THE 

ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 

Swift for the ancients has argued so well, 

'Tis apparent, from thence, that the moderns excel. 



ON DEAN SWIFT'S INTENTION OF LEAVING HIS FORTUNE 
TO BUILD A MAD-HOUSE. 

To Madness, Swift bequeaths his whole estate ; 
Why should we wonder ? Swift is right in that : 
For 'tis a rule, as all our lawyers know, 
Men's fortune to the next of kin should go ; 
And 'tis as sure, unless old bards have lied, 
Great Wits to Madness are most near allied. 



WRITTEN ON A GLASS WITH THE 
EARL OF CHESTERFIELD'S DIAMOND PENCIL. 

Accept a miracle instead of wit ; 

See ! two dull lines by Stanhope's pencil writ. — Pope. 



72 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

POPE ON THE PHYSICIAN WHO ATTENDED HIM DURING 
HIS LAST ILLNECS. 

' Dunces, rejoice, forgive all censures past, 
The greatest dunce has kill'd your foe at last.' 



ON FOX, LORD HOLLAND, 

0)i his retiring to a villa on the coast of Thanet. 
Old and abandon'd by each venal friend, 

Here Holland took the pious resolution, 
To smuggle a few years, and strive to mend 

A broken character and constitution. 
On this congenial spot he fix'd his choice, 

Earl Goodwin trembled for his neighbouring sand. 
Here sea-gulls scream, and cormorants rejoice, 

And mariners, though shipwreck'd, fear to land. 



ON MPS CORBET. 

Here lies a woman, good without pretence, 

Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense ; 

No conquest she, but o'er herself, desired, 

No arts essay' d, but not to be admired. 

Passion and pride were to her soul unknown, 

Convinced that virtue only is our own. 

So unaffected, so composed a mind ; 

So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined : 

Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried ; 

The saint sustained it, — but the woman died. — Pope. 



POPE ON HIMSELF. 

Under this marble, or under this sill, 
Or under this turf, or e'en what you will ; 
Whatever an heir, or one in his stead, 
Or any good creature, shall lay o'er his head ; 
Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares not a pin, 
What they said, or may say, of the mortal within ; 
But who, living and dying, serene still and free, 
, Trusts in God, that, as well as he was, — he shall be. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 73 

ON FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES. 

Here lies Fred, 
Who was alive, and is dead ; 
Had it been his father 
I had much rather. 
Had it been his brother, 
Still better than another. 
. Had it been his sister, 
Nobody would have miss'd her. 
Had it been the whole generation, 
Still better for the nation. 
But since 'tis only Fred, 
Who was alive, and is dead, 
There's no more to be said. 

ON THE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON VIEWING THE TRANSIT 

OF VENUS. 

They tell me Venus is in the sud, 

But I say that's a story ; 
Venus is not in the sun, 

She's in the observatory. 



ON MRS HOWARD, LADY SUFFOLK. 

O wonderful creature, a woman of reason, 
Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season ! 
When so easy to guess who this angel should be, 
Who would think Mrs Howard ne'er dreamt it was she. 



ANOTHER. 

I KNOW the thing that's most uncommon — 

Envy, be silent, and attend ! 
I know a reasonable woman, 

Handsome »nd witty, yet a friend. 
Not warp'd by passion, awed by rumour, 

Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly ; 
An equal mixture of good-humour, 

And sensible soft melancholy. 



74 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Has she no faults then, Malice says, Sir ? 

Yes, she has one, I must aver ; — 
When all the world conspires to praise her, 

The woman's deaf, and does not hear. — Pope. 



ON BISHOP ATTERBURY'S BURYING THE DUKE OF 
BUCKINGHAM. 

' I HAVE no hopes,' the Duke he says, and dies — 
* In sure and certain hope, 5 the prelate cries. 
Of these two noted Peers, I prithee say, man, 
Which is the lying knave — the priest or layman ? 
The Duke he stands an infidel confess'd ; 
, * He's our dear brother,' quoth the holy priest. 
The Duke, though knave, still brother dear, he cries, 
And who can say the reverend prelate lies ? 



ON MARSHAL SAXE. 

The eternal ferryman of Fate, 
When Saxe, incorrigibly great, 

Approach' d within his ken, 
Scowl' d at his freight, a trembling crowd, 
And, ' Turn out, ghosts,' he cried aloud, 

' Here's Hercules again ! ' 



ON A WHOLE LENGTH OF MR NASH, 

Between the Busts of Sir Isaac Newton and Mr Pope, in 
the Rooms at Bath. 

Immortal Newton never spoke 
More truth than here you'll find ; 

Nor Pope himself e'er penn'd a joke 
More cruel on mankind. 

The picture, placed the busts between, 

Gives satire all its strength : 
Wisdom and Wit are little seen, 

But Folly at full length. — Chesterfield. 






EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 75 

ON MR NASH'S STATUE 

Not being placed in the Centre of the Pump-room, where 
the Clock stands. 

Quoth Nash to the clock, ' Stand out of my way : ' 
Quoth the clock, ' Mr Nash, 'tis too late in the day 
For you to command whom you ought to obey. 

' You are no monarch now, your power's decried, 
And the whole corporation, to humble your pride, 
Have agreed, thus in public, to set you aside.'' 



TO A PERSON WHO WROTE ILL, AND SPOKE WORSE OF 
THE AUTHOR. 

Lie, Philo, untouch' d, on my peaceable shelf, 
Nor take it amiss, that so little I heed thee ! 

I've no envy to thee, and some love to myself — 

Then why should I answer, since first I must read thee. 

Pursue me with satire ; what harm is there in't ? 

But from all viva voce reflection forbear : 
There can be no danger from what thou shalt print, 

There may be a little from what thou shalt swear. 



ON PRIOR. 

Before Apollo's shrine I pray'd 
That I by verse to fame might rise ; 

* Bead the best poet/ Phoebus said, 

i And place his works before your eyes. 

1 Best poet — great Phoebus, how, 
How may this pattern wit be found ? 

What age produced the man, whom thou 
With this high character hast crown'd ? 

* Does he among the dead reside, 

Or dwell with those who now survive ? 
Thus I — when Phoebus quick replied, 
' Go, ask if Prior's still alive.' 



76 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

PRIOR'S EPITAPH ON HIMSELF. 

Nobles and heralds, by your leave, 
Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior> 

The son of Adam and of Eve ; 

Let Bourdon or Nassau go higher. 



ON THE WORDS k ONE PRIOR, IN THE SECOND VOLUME 
OF BISHOP BURNET'S HISTORY. 

One Prior ! and is this, this all the fame 
The poet from the historian can claim ? 
No ! Prior's verse posterity shall quote, 
When 'tis forgot one Burnet ever wrote. 



COLLEY CIBBER. 

In merry old England it once was a rule, 
The king had his poet, and also his fool, 
But now we're so frugal, I'd have you to know it, 
That Cibber can serve both for fool and for poet. 



FREDERICK, KING OF PRUSSIA, CHARACTERIZED. 

King, warrior, philosopher, author, musician, 
Freemason, economist, bard, politician; 
If a Christian, how happy would Europe have been ; 
If he'd been but a man, how transported his queen. 



TO VOLTAIRE, 

On Ms censuring Milton' 's Allegory of Death and Sin. 
Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin, 
Thou seem'st a Milton, with his Death and Sin. — Young. 



GRAY ON HIMSELF. 

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, 

He had not the method of making a fortune ; 

Could love and could hate, so 'twas thought something 

odd ; 
No very great wit, he believed in a God : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 77 

A post or a pension he did not desire, 

But left Church and State to Charles Townshend and Squire. 



ON DR JOHNSON'S DICTIONARY. 

Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance 

That one English soldier will beat ten of France. 

Would we alter the boast from the sword to the pen, 

The odds are still greater, still greater our men ! 

In the deep mines of science though Frenchmen may toil, 

Can their strength be compared to Locke, Newton, and 

Boyle ? 
Let them rally their heroes, send forth all their powers, 
Their verse-men and prose-men, then match them with 

ours ! 
First Milton and Shakspeare, like gods in the fight, 
Have put their whole drama and epic to flight : 
In satires, epistles, and odes, would they cope ? 
Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope. 
And Johnson, well arm'd, like a hero of yore, 
Has beat forty French, and will beat forty more ! 



ON ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 

While Seeker lived, he show'd how seers should live ; 

While Seeker taught, heaven open'd to our eye ; 
When Seeker gave, we knew how angels give ; 

When Seeker died, we knew even saints must die. 



on burke. 

Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, 
We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much ; 
AVho, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind. 
And to party gave np what was meant for mankind. 
Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat 
To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote. 
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, 
And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining. 
Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; 
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit : 



78 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient, 
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. 
In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, Sir, 
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. 

Goldsmith, 



PRESENTED TO BURKE, BY LORD ELLENBOROUGH. 

Oft 't has been said, on Irish ground 
No venomous reptile e'er was found : 
Truth stands reveal'd in Nature's work, 
She saved her venom to create a Burke. 



From Martial. 
Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see 
Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree. 

Goldsmith. 



THE PETITION OF I. 

[In 1759, Dr Hill wrote a pamphlet entitled, ' To David Garrick, Esq., 
the Petition of I : in behalf of herself and sisters.' The purport 
was to charge Garrick with mispronouncing some words includ- 
ing the letter I : as, furm for firm, vurtue for virtue, and others. 
The pamphlet is now forgotten ; but the following epigram, which 
Garrick wrote on the occasion, deserves to be preserved, as one of 
the best in the English language.] 

If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter, 
I'll change my notes soon, and I hope for the better : 
May the just right of letters, as well as of men, 
Hereafter be fix'd by the tongue and the pen ! 
Most devoutly I wish that they both have their due, 
And that /may be never mistaken for TT. 



ON GARRICK AND BARRY, IN TIIE CHARACTER OF 
KING LEAR. 

The town has found out different ways 

To praise its different Lears : 
To Barry it gives loud huzzas, 

To Garrick only tears. 






EPIGRAMS OLD AXD NEW. 79 

A king ? ' Ay, every inch a king ! ' 

Such Barry doth appear ; 
But Garrick's quite another thing, 

He's every inch King Lear. 



TO MRS FOX, OX THE WRITER S BIRTHDAY. 

Of years I have now half a century past, 

Yet not one of the fifty so blest as the last : 

How it happens my troubles thus daily should cease, 

And my happiness still with my years should increase- 

This defiance to Nature's more general laws 

You alone can explain, who alone are the cause. 



ON PITT'S BEIXG- PELTED BY THE MOB OX LORD 
MAYOR'S DAY, 1787. 

The City feast inverted here we find, 
For Pitt has his desert before he dined. 



EPITAPH FOR ROBESPIERRE. 

Here lies Robespierre — let no tear be shed : 
Reader, if he had lived, thou hadst been dead. 



OX HAXXAH MORE, WHEX HER DRESS CAUGHT FIRE. 

Vulcan to scorch thy dress in vain essays, 
Apollo strives in vain to fire tlry lays ; 
Hannah, the cause is visible enough, — ■ 
Stuff are thy garments, and thy writings stuff. 



A REPLY. 

Clothed in his filth, lo ! Epigram appears, 
His face distorted with a thousand sneers ; 
But still the cause is visible enough, — 
The writer envies Hannah's lasting stuff. 



ON HAXXAH MORE. 

Muses nine we had before : 
Kennicott has shown us More. 



80 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON NELSON'S VICTORY OF THE NILE. 

Our ships at the Nile have created such terror, 
4 Ex Nilo fit nil' proves a logical error. 



ON THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE'S CANVASSING FOR 
MR FOX. 

Array'd in matchless beauty, Devon's fair 
In Fox's favour takes a zealous part ; 

But, oh! where'er the pilferer comes — beware ! 
She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart. 



TO THE MEMORY OF NELL BATCHELOUR- 
THE OXFORD PIE -WOMAN. 

Here, into the dust, 

The mouldering crust 
Of Eleanor Batchelour's shoven ; 

Well-versed in the arts 

Of pies, custards, and tarts, 
And the lucrative skill of the oven. 

When she'd lived long enough, 

She made her last puff — 
A puff by her husband much praised : 

Now here she does lie, 

And makes a dirt-pie, 
In hopes that her crust shall be raised. 



ON BLOOMFIELD. 

Bloomfield, thy happy-omen'd name 
Insures continuance to thy fame. 
Both sense aud truth this verdict give, 
While fields shall bloom thy name shall live. 

H. K. White. 



EPITAPH ON ST. PAVIN. 

From Meubet. 
Saint Pavix lies beneath this tomb : 
Reader 1 mourn with tears his doom. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 81 

Wast thou his friend ? thy soul resign 
To grief, and weep his fate and thine : 
Or wast thou not ? then weep thine own, 
That as his friend thou wast not known. 



ON DR EVANS CUTTING DOWN A ROW OF TREES AT 
ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, OXON. 

Indulgent nature on each kind bestows 

A secret instinct to discern its foes : 

The goose, a silly bird, yet shuns the fox ; 

Lambs fly from wolves ; and sailors steer from rocks. 

Evans the gallows as his fate foresees, 

And bears the like antipathy to trees. 



ON HOUGH, BISHOP OF WORCESTER. 

A Bishop by his neighbours hated, 
Has cause to wish himself translated : 
But why should Hough desire translation, 
Loved and esteem'd by all the nation ? 
Yet if it be the old man's case, 
I'll lay my life I know the place : 
'Tis where God sends some that adore him, 
And whither Enoch went before him. 



TO THE DUCHESS OF BEAUFORT. 

Offspring of a tuneful sire, 
Blest with more than mortal fire ; 
Likeness of a mother's face, 
Blest with more than mortal grace : 
You with double charms surprise, 
With his wit, and with her eyes. 



ON DR LETTSOM. 

If anybody comes to I, 

I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em ; 
If, after that, they likes to die, 

Why, then, of course I Lettsom. 
6 



82 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

IMPEOMPTU, 
To Dr Harrington 
When people borrow, it should be their care 
To send things back again — it is but fair; 

To gratitude and manners this is due. 

Therefore, good doctor, to the God of Song 

Eeturn his lyre — you've really had it long : 

Others must be obliged as well as you. 

ON THE BEAUTIFUL MISS GUNNINGS. 

Sly Cupid, perceiving our modern beaux' hearts 

Were proof to the sharpest and best of his darts, > 

His power to maintain, the young urchin, grown cunning, 

Has laid down his bow, and now conquers by Gunning. 



EXTEMPORE FROM LORD LYTTELTON TO LADY BPwOAVN. 

When I was young and debonnaire, 
The brownest nymph to me was fair ; 
But now I'm old and wiser grown, 
The fairest nymph to me is Brown. 



ON JEFFREY, THE EDINBURGH REVIEWER. RIDING ON A 
DONKEY. 

Short, but not so fat as Bacchus, 

Witty as Horatius Flaccus, 

As great a Jacobin as Gracchus, 

See little Jeffrey on a Jackass. — Sydney Smith. 



ON MR STRAHAN. 

Your lower limbs seem'd far from stout 

When last I saw you walk ; 
The cause I presently found out 

When you begun to talk. 

The' power that props the body's length 

In due proportion spread, 
In you mounts upwards, and the strength 

All settles in the head. — Smith. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 83 

THE FOUR GEORGES. 

GrEOBGE the First was reckoned vile, 

Viler George the Second ; 
And what mortal ever heard 
Any good of George the Third ? 
When from earth the Fourth descended, 
Heaven be praised, the Georges ended ! — Landor. 



ON LOUIS PHILIPPE. 

Louis Philippe 

Has lost his sheep, 
And never again will find 'em : 

The people of France 

Have made an advance, 
And left their King behind 'em. — Punch, 1848. 



ON CHARLES X. AND LOUIS PHILIPPE. 

Charles and Phil went up the hill 
In France, across the water ; 
Charles fell down, and broke his crown, 
And Phil came tumbling after. — Punch. 



Noil confundar in cetemwn. 
Did Nicholas mean, say ye schoolmen so clever, 
To entreat he might not be confounded for ever ; 
Or did he intend with presumption unbounded 
To prefer a request to be never confounded ? 
The former supposed to have been his petition, 
There is hope for him yet in unfeigned contrition ; 
The latter's past praying for — merely delusion ; 
Old Nick has already been put to confusion. — Punch. 



ON THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 

Czar Nicholas is so devout, they say, 

His Majesty does nothing else than prey. — Punch. 



84 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ANOTHER. 

Czar Nicholas cried as lie look'd in the glass, 
' Ha, ha ! why am I like a beautiful lass ? ' 
Well, why ? ' cried the empress. ' Because,' replied he, 
' So many fine fellows are dying for me ! ' — Punch. 



ON SIR FRANCIS HEAD'S DEFENCE OF 
LOUIS NAPOLEON, 1851. 

There was a little Bart., 

And he took the little part 
Of the man with the bullets of lead, lead, lead. 

He wrote to the Times 

In defence of the crimes 
Disgraceful to the heart and the Head, Head, Head. 

Punch. 



NAP. III. 

Remember, remember, the man of December, 

Coup d'etat, stratagem, plot ; 
There's very good reason why just at this season 

He never should be forgot. — Punch. 



ON LORD DUNDONALD. 

You fight so well, and speak so ill, 

Your case is somewhat odd, 
Fighting abroad you're quite at home, 

Speaking at home — abroad. 
Therefore your friends, than hear yourself, 

Would rather of you hear ; 
And that your name in the Gazette, 

Than Journals, should appear. 



ON LORD BROUGHAM. 



' 1 wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he talks ? : 

Said a punster perusing a trial" ; 
< I vow since his Lordship was made Baron TaiiX 

He's been Yaux (vox) et praeterea nihil.' — Punch. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 85 

ANOTHER. 

Here, reader, turn youv weeping eyes, 

My fate a moral teaches ; 
The hole in Avhich my body lies 

Would not contain one-half my speeches. 



THE TWO ORATORS. 

When Palmerston begins to speak, 

He moves the House — as facts can prove. 

Let Urqukart rise with accents weak, 

The House itself begins to move. — Punch. 

MEN OF PEACE. 

Messieurs Cobden and Bright 
Disapprove of a fight, 
But the greatest good- will 
Entertain for a Mill. — Punch. 



ON CHARLES DICKENS. 

Who the dickens ' Boz ' could be 
Puzzled many a learned elf : 

Till time unveil' d the mystery, 

Aud ' Boz ' appeared as Dickens' self. 



ON IDA PFEIFFER. 

Through regions by wild men and cannibals haunted, 
Old Dame Ida Pfeiffer goes lone and undaunted ; 
But. bless you, the risk's not so great as its reckon'd, 
She's too plain for the first, and too tough for the second. 

Hannay 



THE CONSISTENCY OF GENERAL CALEB GUSHING. 
General C . is a dreffle smart man : 

He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf ; 
But consistency still wuz a part of his plan, — 

He's ben true to one party, — an' thet is himself. 



86 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

DISRAELI ON 'SHAM.' 

' There is a word I never use, 

'Tis Sham,' remarked the Asian Mystic. 

Henceforth, who'll venture to accuse 
Dizzy of being — egotistic ? — Punch. 



BIG BEN AND LITTLE BEN. 

BiO Ben is crack'd, we needs must own, 
Small Ben is sane past disputation ; 

Yet we should like to know whose tone 
Is most offensive to the nation. — Punch, 

EARL RUSSELL ON HIMSELF. 

Brave sires beget brave sons, 'tis said 
One Russell bravely lost his head, 

And so would I, Lord John ; 
But as my head may where it stands 
As well serve all my patriot ends, 

I'll rather keep it on. 



BOOK VI. 

EPIGEAMS ON" LITERATURE. 

From Martial. 
You come, — away flies every mother's son ; 
On Bagshot Heath you can't be more alone. 
If you ask why ? — you are bewitch'd with rhyme, 
And this, believe me, is a dangerous crime. — Hay. 



From Martial. 
The ancients all your veneration have, 
You like no poet on this side the grave. 
Yet pray excuse me, if, to please you, I 
Can hardly think it worth my while to die. — Hay. 



From Martial. 
With faulty accents and so vile a tone 
You quote my lines, I took them for your own. 



From Martial. 
' Why ne'er to me,' the Laureate cries, 

' Are poet Paulo's verses seat ? ' 
' For fear,' the tuneful rogue replies, 

' You should return the compliment." — Hodgson. 



POLITIAN TO LOREXZO DE MEDICI. 

While, burning with poetic fire, 
To you I tune the applausive lyre, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

The jeering rabble slily note 

(And well they may) my threadbare coat : 

My shoes, that, gall'd by constant weariDg, 

Threaten to give my toes an airing. 

The rogues but ill conceal their smirking, 

While they remark my ragged jerkin ; 

They cry, I'm but a scurvy poet, 

And swear my shabby tatters show it. 

While you, Lorenzo, so bepraise me, 

Your flattery's sure enough to craze me ; 

But prove your eulogies sincere — 

Have mercy on my character, 

And (no great boon your bard beseeches) 

Send me, at least, a pair of breeches. 



TO MR POPE ON HIS DUNCIAD. 

The raven, rook, and pert jackdaw, 

(Though neither birds of moral kind,) 
Yet serve, if hang'd or stuff'd with straw, 

To show us which way blows the wind. 
Thus dirty knaves, or chatt'ring fools, 

Strung up by dozens in thy lay, 
Teach more by half than Dennis' rules 

And point instruction ev'ry way. 
With Egypt's art thy pen may strive : 

One potent drop let this but shed ; 
And ev'ry rogue that stunk, alive, 

Becomes a precious mummy, dead. 



ON ONE WHO MADE LONG EPITAPHS. 

Friend ! for your epitaphs I'm grieved, 

Where still so much is said ; 
One half will never be believed, 

The other never read. — Pope. 



From Swift. 
Arthur, they say, has wit ; for what ? 
For writing ? No ; for writing not. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 89 

ON ERECTING A MONUMENT TO SHAKESPEARE, 

Under the direction of Pope, Lord Burlington, fye. 
To mark her Shakespeare's worth, and Britain's love, 
Let Pope design and Burlington approve : 
Superfluous care ! When distant times shall view 
This tomb grown old — his works shall still be new. 



THE FRIENDLY CONTEST. 

While Cam and Isis their sad tribute bring 
- Of rival grief to weep their pious king, 
The bards of Isis half had been forgot, 
Had not the sons of Cam in pity wrote ; 
From their learn'd brothers, they took off the curse, 
And proved their verse not bad — by writing worse. 



TO MR POPE ON HIS TRANSLATION OF HOMER. 

So much, dear Pope, thy English Iliad charms, 
When pity melts us, or when passion warms, 
That after-ages shall with wonder seek, 
Who 'twas translated Homer into Greek. 



ON THE BISHOP OF CLOYNE'S BOOK UPON TAR-WATER, 

1744. 

Lo ! ev'ry subject Berkley treats 

With elegance and ease ! 
Tar breathes forth aromatic sweets, 

And metaphysics please ! 
Though, humbly first, the sage explores 

The virtues of the pine ; 
To loftiest themes he gentty soars, 

Physician and divine ! 
Here batter'd rakes, for taint or gout, 

A sure balsamic find ; 
Here sophs may learn what Plato thought 

Of the eternal mind. 



90" EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Henceforth let none the lawn decry, 
If Berkley's pious care 

Teach wits to own a Trinity, 
And beaux to relish tar. 



ON A CERTAIN POET. 



Thy verses are eternal, O my friend, 

For he that reads them, reads them to no end. 



ON A BAD TRANSLATION. 

His work now done, he'll publish, it no doubt; 
For sure I am, ' that murder will come out' 



ON A CERTAIN WRITER. 

Half of your book is to an index grown ; 

You give your book contents^ — your readers none. 



PARALLEL BETWEEN THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 

Some for the ancients zealously declare, 

Others, again, our modern wits prefer ; 

A third affirms, that they are much the same, 

And differ only as to time and name : 

Yet sure one more distinction may be told, 

Those once w T ere new, but these will ne'er be old, 

ON pope's translation of homer. 
As oft, in vain, as he essay' d to tell, 
In foreign tongues, how Troy and Priam fell ; 
Old Homer has at last attain'd to speak 
In smoother accents than his native Greek. 



on boydell's shakspeare. 

Old father Time, as Ovid sings, 
Is a great eater up of things ; 
And, without salt or mustard, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 91 

Will gulp you down a castle wall, 
As clean as ever at Guildhall 

An alderman ate custard. 
• But Boydell, careful of his fame, 
By grafting it on Shakespeare's name, 

Shall beat his neighbours hollow : 
For to the Bard of Avon's stream 
Old Time has said (like Polypheme), 

e You'll be the last I'll swallow.' 

SHAKSPEARE RESTOEED. 

'Tis generous, Theobald, in thee and thy brothers, 
To help us thus to read the works of others : 
Never for this can just returns be shown ; 
For who will help us e'er to read thy own. 



ON THE SETTING UP OF SAMUEL BUTLER'S MONUMENT 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

While Butler, needy wretch ! was yet alive, 

No generous patron would a dinner give : 

See him, when starved to death, and turn'd to dust, 

Presented with a monumental bust ! 

The poet's fate is here in emblem shown, 

He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone. 



ON A REGIMENT SENT TO OXFORD, AND A PRESENT 
OF BOOKS TO CAMBRIDGE, BY GEORGE I. 

The king observing, with judicious eyes, 

The state of both his universities, 

To one he sent a regiment ; for why ? 

That learned body wanted loyalty : 

To the other he sent books, as well discerning 

How much that loyal body wanted learning. 



THE ANSWER. 

The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse, 
For Tories own no argument but force : 
With equal care, to Cambridge books he sent, 
For Whigs allow no force but argument. 



92 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

TO A CONTEMPTIBLE AUTHOR, WHO HAD WRITTEN 
THE EPITAPH OF A GOOD POET. 

From Le Brun. 

On Stephen's tomb thou writ'st the mournful line ! 
Why lived he not, alas ! to write on thine ? 



THE FRIENDLY CRITIC. 

t Yile Critic/ exclaim'd a poor author in pique, 
* In reviewing my work why abase it? 
You've injured my fame by your cursed critique, 
For nobody now will peruse it.' 

Quoth the critic, ' I'm glad to hear that, for my aim 
Was to save, not destroy reputation, 

And I could not more certainly ruin your fame, 
Than by giving your work circulation.' 



ON BOSWELL'S * JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES.' 

When Jamie Boswell took his pen, 

The Doctor's sayings to record ; 
Professors look'd like common men, 

And Johnson of the clan the Lord. 

Whate'er the Doctor blunder 5 d out, 

Or be it prose, or be it verse, 
Jamie wrote down without one doubt, 

And prized it as it had been Erse. 

But could it be poor Johnson's fate 
To read these pages, as 'tis mine ; 

The folio thrown at Osborne's pate, 
Dear Jamie, would be thrown at thine. 



ON A FINE LIBRARY. 

With eyes of wonder the gay shelves behold, 
Poets, all rags alive, now clad in gold ; 
In life and death one common fate they share, 
And on their backs still all their riches wear. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 93 

ON GIBBON. 

King George, in a fright 

Lest Gibbon should write 
The story of Britain's disgrace, 

Thought no means more sure 

His pen to secure, 
Than to give the historian a place. 

But his caution is vain. 

'Tis the curse of his reign 
That his projects shall never succeed : 

Though he write not a line, 

Yet a cause of * Decline ' 
In the author's example we read. 

His book well describes 

How corruption and bribes 
Overthrew the great empire of Borne : 

And his writings declare 

A degeneracy there 
Which his conduct exhibits at home. 



Imitated from the French of Guichard. 
Ho, ho ! Master Mouse ! safe at last in my cage 

You're caught, and there's nothing shall save you 
from dying : 
For, caitiff! you nibbled and tore Shakespeare's page, 
When close by your nose Tupper's nonsense was lying, 



ON THE DEATH OF TOM OSBORNE THE BOOKSELLER. 

Of a dull heavy folio here rests the last page, 
And what is more true, the best half : 

It had nothing within it informing or sage, 
'Twas unletter'd, and bound up in calf. 



ON WIT. 

True wit is like the brilliant stone 

Dug from the Indian mine, 
Which boasts two various powers in one, — 

To cut as well as shine. 



94 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Genius like that, if polish'd right, 
With the same gift abounds ; 

Appears at once both keen and bright, 
And sparkles while it wounds. 



Dr Brewster of Cambridge was put out of Commons for 
not attending Chapel, on which occasion he wrote the 
following Epigram, which procured his restoration. 
To fast and pray, we are by Heaven taught ; 
Oh, could I practise either as I ought ! 
In both, alas ! I err : my frailty such, 
I pray too little, and I fast too much. 

ON 'WHO WROTE EIKON BASILIKE ? ' 

< Y/ho wrote Eikon Basilike ? ' 

' I,' said the master of Trinity, 
' 1, with my little divinity, 

I wrote "Who wrote Eikon Basilike?" ' 

Whately. 



ON MOORE'S ANACREON. 

Oh ! mourn not for Anacreon dead ; 

Oh ! weep not for Anacreon fled ; 

The lyre still breathes he touch 'd before, 

For we have one Anacreon Moore. — Ersliine. 



ON MISS EDGEWORTH S WORKS. 

We everyday bards may ' anonymous ' sign ; 

That refuge, Miss Edgeworth, can never be thine. 

Thy writings, where satire and moral unite, 

Must bring forth the name of their author to light. 

Good and bad join in telling the source of their birth, 

The bad own their Edge, and the good own their worth. 

J. Smith. 



ON AN OFFICER WHO DECLINED THE DEGREE OF D.C.L. 

Oxford, no doubt, you wish me well, 

But, prithee, let me be : 
I can't, alas ! be D.C.L. 

Because of L.S.D.— Mansell. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 95 

CHEAP DEGREES. 

Oxford, beware of over-cheap degrees, 

Nor lower too much accumulators' fees, 

Lest, unlike Goldsmith's land to ills a prey, 

Men should accumulate and wealth decav. — Mansell. 



THE MODEST POET. 

'Tis said, most gracious Apollo, 
That Poets thou lovest to befriend ; 

Now this trade I'm determined to follow, 
So, low at thy altar I bend. 

But though thou'rt a patron most able, 
I'm a suitor so modest, I vow, 

That, give but two Bays in my stable, 
I won't ask for one on mv brow. 



RECIPE FOR A BIOGRAPHY. 

Take your facts from the last man; — let no "theft appal 

ye; 
Then, take thought from Carlyle, and take style from 

Macaulay ; 
Throw in plenty of ' sympathy,' — rubbing your eyes about 
Men whom, if living, you'd snub and tell lies about ; 
Pass the words to the critics, and fling your pen down, 
And your bran-new biography's out on the town. — Hannay. 

THE FOOL AND THE POET. 

Sir, I admit your general rule, 
That every poet is a fool ; 
But you yourself may serve to show it, 
That every lool is not a poet. — Pope. 

THE BATHOS. 

'Since mountains sink to vales, and valleys die, 
And seas and rivers mourn their sources dry; 
When my old cassock,' said a Welsh divine, 
( Is out at elbows, why should I repine ? ' — Porson. 



96 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



ON BEING ASKED FOR 'SOMETHING ORIGINAL.' 

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me 

To write ; but how shall I begin ? 
For I'm sure I have nothing original in me, 

Excepting original Sin. — Campbell. 



TASTE AND FEELING. 

The French have taste in all they do, 
Which we are quite without ; 

For Nature, which to them gave gout, 
To us gave only gout. 



Answered impromtu. 
Condemn not in such haste, 

To letters four appealing ; 
Their ' gout ' is only taste, 

The English ' gout" is feeling. 

ON CROKER. 

They say his wit's refined. Thus is explain VI 
The seeming mystery — his wit is sxrainM. 



ROGERS S 'ITALY.' 

Of Eogers's - Italy,' Luttrell relates, 

' It would have been disli'd but for its fine plates? 

ON THE SUBSCRIPTION FOR HOOD'S WIDOW. 

To cheer the widow's heart in her distress, 
To make provision for the fatherless, 
Is but a Christian's duty ; and none should 
Resist the heart-appeal of Widow Hood. 



ON SHELLEY'S 'PROMETHEUS UNBOUND.' 

Shelley styles his new poem, ' Prometheus Unbound, 1 
And 'tis like to remain so, while time circles round ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 97 

For surely an age would be spent in the finding 
A reader so weak as to pay for the binding. 



ON THE WORKS OF MR AINSWORTH. 

Says Ainsworth to Colburn, 

* A plan in my pate is 
To give my romance as 

A supplement gratis.' 

Says Colburn to Ainsworth, 

' 'Twill do very nicely, 
For that will be charging 

Its value precisely.' — Punch. 



THE PLURALITY OF WORLDS. 

Says Brewster to Whewell, ' Let's fight a star duel, 
Though you 're very cruel to raise such a strife : 

What ! nature make worlds for mere lanterns or fuel ! 
I tell you all planets are swarming with life.' 

Says Whewell to Brewster, * You old cock or rooster, 
Why will you anew stir the question with me ? 

Excepting our planet, Creation's whole cluster 
Is as empty as you and your volume, Sir D. 5 

Punch. 



ON A PLAGIARIST. 

A duke once declared — and most solemnly too — 
That whatever he liked with his own he would do. 
But the son of a duke has gone further, and shown 
He will do what he likes with what isn't his own. 

Punch. 



ON CAMPBELL'S 'LIVES OF THE CHANCELLORS.' 

Lives of great men misinform us, 
Campbell's Lives in this sublime, 

Errors frightfully enormous, 
Misprints on the sands of time. 
7 



98 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW, 



A DISTINCTION WITH A DIFFERENCE. 

Compare Correspondence with Articles ? Never 
Will readers incline to dispute these two rules, — 

Most persons who write for a journal are clever, 
Most persons who write to a journal are fools. 

Punch. 



on writing two essays preparatory to taking 

UP A D.D. 

The title D.D. 'tis proposed to convey 
To an ASS for a SSA. 



BOOK VII. 

PHILOSOPHICAL EPIGRAMS. 

ON A GAME AT CHESS. 

From the Greek. 

These toys can to a thinking mind 
The varying face of fortune show ; 

Life's mimic picture here we find, 

Where mixt with shades bright colours glow. 

That man an equal fame obtains 

Who or in life, or here at chess, 
Still master of himself, disdains 

Of grief, or joy, the mad excess. 



DIOGENES TO AEISTIPPUS. 

Cloy'd with ragouts, you scorn my simple food, 
And think good-eating is man's only good : 
I ask no more than Temperance can gi\e ; 
You live to eat, I only eat — to live. 



From the Greek, 

All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness ! 

Trace, Memory, trace whate'er is sweet or kind ; 
When friends forsake us, or misfortunes press, 

Oblivion, raze the record from our mind. 



100 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

From Martial. 

Fortune, some say, doth give too much to many ; 
And yet she never gave enough to any. 

Sir J. Harrington. 
Or, 
He fawns for more, though he his thousands touch ; 
Fortune gives none enough, but some too much. 



From Martial. 

'Tis a mere nothing that you ask, you cry ; 
If you ask nothing, nothing I deny. — Hay. 



A CURE FOR THE EVILS OF LIFE. 

Lord ! if our days be few, why do we spend 

And lavish them to such an evil end ? 

Or why, if they be evil, do we wrong 

Ourselves and Thee, in wishing them so long ? 

Our days decrease, our evils still renew, 

We make them evil, and thou mak'st them few. 



WHERE IS GOD? 

A pedant, to perplex a child, 

Ask'd, ' Where is God ? ' The pupil smiled, 

Embarrass'd not a jot ; 
For God's ubiquity he knew ; 
So straight replied, ' Fll tell when you 

Tell me where He is not.' 



EXPECTING AND KNOWING. 

Faith, Hope, and Love were question'd what they thought 

Of future glory which religion taught : 

Now Faith believed it to be firmly true, 

And Hope expected so to find it too ; 

Love answer'd, smiling with unconscious glow, 

' Believe? expect? I know it to be so.' — John Wesley. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 101 

SOLON'S SEPTENNIAL DIVISION OF TIME. 

The seven first years of life, man's break of day, 
Gleams of short sense, a dawn of thought display : 
When fourteen springs have bloom'd his downy cheek, 
His soft and bashful meanings learn to speak : 
From twenty-one proud manhood takes its date ; 
Yet is not strength complete till twenty -eight : 
Thence, to his five-and-thirtieth, life's gay fire 
Sparkles, burns bright, and flames in fierce desire : 
At forty -two his eyes grave wisdom wear. 
And the dark future dims him o'er with care : 
With forty -nine behold his toils increase, 
And busy hopes and fears disturb his peace ; 
At fifty '-six cool reason reigns entire, 
Then life burns steady, and with temp 'rate fire : 
But sixty -three unbends the body's strength, 
'Ere th' unwearied mind has run her length : 
And when, from seventy, age surveys her last, 
Tired, she stops short, and wishes all were past. 



ON THE DEATH OF AN EPICTTEE. 

At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er ; 
IVe eat sufficient — and I'll drink no more : 
My night is come ; I've spent a jovial day ; 
'Tis time to part ; but oh ! — what is to pay ? 



THE OLD GENTRY. 

From Swift. 
That all from Adam first begun 

Sure none, but Whiston, doubts ; 
And that his son, and his son's son, 

Were ploughmen, clowns, and louts. — 

Here lies the only diff'rence now, 
Some shot off late, some soon ; 

Your sires in the morning left off plough, 
And ours in th' afternoon. 



102 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 

WRITTEN IN AN INN, ON EDGE-HILL. 

Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, 
Where'er his various tour has been, 

May sigh to think how oft he found 

His warmest welcome at an inn. — Shenstone. 



SHORT-LIVED BEAUTY. 

Beauty is but a short-lived flower, 

Alas ! too subject to decay, 
That blooms, th' amusement of an hour, 

And sheds its glory with the day. 
Whoever ancient Phyllis knows, 

Will find this literally true ; 
Mark on her cheeks the blushing rose, 

Short-lived, as on the tree it grew. 
Though on the beauties of each feature 

Th' embellishments of art are laid, 
Yet, all her charms, to copy nature, 

Bloom in the morn, at ev'ning fade. 

RELIGION AND MORALITY. 

Beligion's path they never trod 

Who equity condemn ; 
Nor ever are they just to God 

Who prove unjust to men. 



WARNING. 

Hear ye that awful truth 
With which I charge my page, 
A worm is at the bud of youth 
And at the root of age. — Conger. 



CONTENTMENT. 

Let this plain truth those ingrates strike 

Who still, though bless' d, new blessings crave : 

That we may all have what we like, 

Simply by liking what we have. — Horatio Smith. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 103 

PITY OR ENVY? 

If every man's internal care 

Were written on his brow, 
How many would our pity share 

Who raise our envy now! 



THE ALTERNATIVE. 

FOR every ill beneath the sun 
There is some remedy or none. 
Should there be one, resolve to find it ; 
If not, submit, and never mind it. 



TO HOPE. 

Ah ! woe is me ! from day to day 

I drag a life of pain and sorrow : 
Yet still, sweet Hope, I hear thee say. 

' Be calm, thine ills will end to-morrow.' 
The morrow comes, but brings to me 

No charm disease or grief relieving ; 
And am I ever doom'd to see, 

Sweet Hope, thy promises deceiving ? 
Yet, false and cruel as thou art, 

Thy dear delusions will I cherish : 
I cannot, dare not, with thee part, 

Since 7, alas! with thee must perish. 

WISDOM AND PLEASURE. 

Let pleasure be granted to youth : 
But since human life is soon run, 

And has but — to speak sober- truth — 
Two moments — let wisdom have one, 



ON OMENS. 

Imitated from the French. 
Once on a time, as holy authors say, 
A Boman knight met Cato on the way ; 



104 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

1 Kind sir/ quoth he, i your speedy counsel lend, 

Strange portents are abroad, that fright your friend ; 

A prodigy I've seen : — Last night a rat 

Eat my old shoe— what think you, sir, of that ? 

My wife is sick — and hence I surely spy 

She will recover, or myself will die.' 

Thus spake the knight, and thus the seer began — 

1 Your idle fears dispel, and be a man. 

Eats will maraud ; and, if I augur true, 

Nor death, nor disappointment, thence ensue : 

If your old shoe, indeed, had eat the rat, 

I should have thought a prodigy in that.' 



ON SELF-CONCEIT. 



Hail, charming power of self-opinion ! 
For none are slaves in thy dominion : 
Secure in thee, the mind's at ease ; 
The vain have only one to please. 



ON SLEEP. 



Come, gentle sleep, attend thy votary's prayer, 
And though death's image, to my couch repair : 
How sweet, though lifeless, yet with life to lie ! 
And without dying, O how sweet to die ! 

Wart on (t ran slat ed*by Wolcot). 



TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS. 



I WTSn thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend, 
For when at worst they say things always mend. 

Cowper (translated from Owen). 



From Goethe. 

Or bathed in bliss, or overwhelm' d in woe, 
- The heart must still require a kindred heart : 
Divided joy bids double joy o'erflow, 
And pain divided loses half its smart. 






EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 105 

A RUSSIAN EPIGRAM. 

What is man's history? Born — living — dying, 
Leaving the still shore for the troubled wave — 

Struggling with storm-winds, over shipwrecks flying, 
And casting anchor in the silent grave. 



KNOW THYSELF. 



I'VE not said so to you, my friend, and I am not going ; 
As you may find so many folks better worth the knowing. 

Notes and Queries. 



LLNES ON LINES. 

Curved is the line of Beauty, 
Straight is the line of Duty ; 
Walk by the last, and thou shalt see 
The former always follow thee. 



FOOLS EVERYWHERE. 

The world of fools has such a store, 
That he who would not see an ass, 

Must bide at home, and bolt his door, 
And break his looking-glass. 

LOVE AND FOLLY. 

Love and Folly, while at school, 
Quarrelling on this or that ; 

He call'd her a silly fool ; 
She call'd him a saucy brat. 

Love strikes Folly with his bow ; 

Folly in a fury flies, 
And, in vengeance for the blow, 

Scratches out poor Cupid's eyes. 

Venus all in tribulation 

To the court of Jove repairs, 

And, as a just compensation, 
Jove his sovereign will declares. 



106 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

; Since he's blind,' the god decreed, 

' And since Folly made him so, 
She the erring boy shall lead, 

She his guide where'er he go.' 

Ever since, as in a tether, 

She has been the urchin's guide ; 

They are always found together, 
Love and Folly at his side. 

Chevalier Lawrence. 



A LARGE HEART. 

wherefore should I murmur thus ? 

The world is very wide ; 
My heart shall be an omnibus, 

And carry twelve inside. 

Some hearts, like cabs, besides themselves, 

To one or two incline ; 
But omnibuses carry twelves : 

Such be this heart of mine. — Punch. 



1 1 WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS.' 

I wouldn't live for ever, 

I wouldn't if I could : 
But I needn't fret about it, 

For I couldn't if I would. 






BOOK VIII. 

EPIGRAMS ON LAW AND LAWYERS. 

From the Greek. 

A plaintiff thus explain'd his cause 

To counsel learned in the laws : — 

( My bondmaid lately ran away, 

And in her flight was met by A, 

Who, knowing she belong'd to me, 

Espoused her to his servant B. 

The issue of this marriage, pray, 

Do they belong to me or A ? ' 

The lawyer, true to his vocation, 

Gave sign of deepest cogitation ; 

Look'd at a score of books, or near, 

Then hemm'd, and said, ' Your case is clear ; 

Those children so begot by B, 

Upon your bondmaid, must, you see, 

Be yours, or A's : — now, this I say, 

They can't be yours if they to A 

Belong ; — it follows then, of course, 

That if they are not his, they're yours. 

Therefore, by my advice, in short, 

You'll take the opinion of the court.' 



THE LEARNED PLEADEE. 

From Martial. 
My cause concerns nor battery nor treason ; 
I sue my neighbour for this only reason — 



108 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

That late, three sheep of mine to pound he drove ; 

This is the point the court would have you prove. 

Concerning Magna Charta you run on, 

And all the perjuries of old King John ; 

Then of the Edwards and Black Prince you rant, 

And talk of John o' Stiles and John o' Gaunt ; 

With voice and hand a mighty pother keep — 

Now pray, dear sir, one word about the sheep ! — Hay. 



INSCRIPTION FOR INNER-TEMPLE GATE. 

As by the Templars' hold you go, 
The Horse and Lamb display' d 

In emblematic figures, show 
The merits of their trade. 

That clients may infer from thence 
How just is their profession, 

The Lamb sets forth their innocence, 
The Horse their expedition. 

happy Britons ! happy isle ! 

Let foreign nations say, 
Where you get justice without guile, 

And law without delay. 



ANSWER TO THE ABOVE. 

Deluded men ! these holds forego, 
Nor trust such cunning elves ; 

These artful emblems tend to show 
Their clients, not themselves. 

'Tis all a trick — these all are shams, 
By which they mean to cheat you ; 

But have a care, for you're the lambs, 
And they the wolves that eat you. 

Nor let the thought of no delay • 
To these their courts misguide you, 

'Tis you're the showy horse, and they 
The jockeys that will ride you. 






EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 109 

THE CONSEQUENCE OF LAW. 

Once, says an author, where I need not say, 
Two travellers found an oyster in their way ; 
Both fierce, both hungry, the dispute grew strong, 
While, scale in hand, Dame Justice pass'd along. 
Before her each with clamour pleads the laws, 
Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause. 
Dame Justice, weighing long the doubtful right, 
Takes, opens, swallows it before their sight. 
The cause of strife removed, so rarely well, 
Then take, says Justice, take ye each a shell. 



A WISE SENTENCE. 

The constable of a country town 

Before a justice brought, 
Once on a time, a vagrant clown, 

In petty trespass caught. 

And long, with many a hum and ha, 
Much circumstance, much doubt, 

Enlarged on some supposed faux-pas, 
Could he have made it out. 

Then to his worship turn'd his speech, 

At every period's close, 
And ask'd what punishment could reach 

Enormities like those ? 

i What punishment ? ' with angry face 

The justice cried amain : 
* Make him this moment take my place, 

And hear your tale again.' 



JUSTICE WHY BLIND. 

Says Will to Mat, ' What cause can be assign'd 

Why sacred Themis still is pictured blind ? 3 

' Because,' says Mat, ' when towering vice prevails 

She may excuse the error of her scales ; 

For most, who know this present age agree, 

Whate'er she thinks — she does not care to see ! ' 



110 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

From the French. 
One day a justice much enlarged 
On industry, as he discharged 
A thief from jail : ' Go work,' he said ; 
' Go, prithee, learn some better trade, 

Or, mark my words, you'll rue it. 5 
' My trade's as good,' replied the knave, 
' As any man need wish to have ; 
And if it don't succeed, d'ye see, 
The fault, sir, lies with you, not me, — 

You won't let me pursue it.' 



WRITTEN IN A LAWYER'S 'COKE UPON LITTLETON.' 

THOU, who labour'st in this rugged mine ! 
May'st thou to gold the unpolish'd ore refine ! 
May each dark page unfold its haggard brow ! 
Doubt not to reap, if thou canst bear to plough. — 
To tempt ,thy care may, each revolving night, 
Purses and maces swim before thy sight ! 
And when the wig thy visage shall enclose, 
And only leave to view thy learned nose, 
Safely may'st thou defy beaux, wits, and scoffers, 
While tenants in fee-simple stuff thy coffers. 



COMPLAINANTS AT LAW. 
Pleadings on pleadings rise, a mountain ! 

(In course of law the usual way 'tis) ; 
And words — beyond the power of counting — 

Yet not one word, or tittle, gratis. 

Month follows month, term term, and each, 

(O Law, ingenious in delay, 
Thy mysteries deep what thought can reach ?) 

Each party still has costs to pay. 

Complainant Bourke ; defendant Lisle ; 

Such are they while the suit depends : — 
' A3V cries old Bramble, with a smile, 

( But both complainants when it ends.' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. HI 

Thus, of a turtle once, rare dish ! 

A case adjudged, reporters tell — 
Court, agents, lawyers, ate the fish : 

The parties — supped upon the shell. 



A CHANCERY SUIT. 

Imitated from the Latin of Vincent Bourne. 
Three inches of a party wall, 

'Twixt Bourke and Lisle had kindled hate : 
Angry and long the strife — the Hall 

At last must settle the debate. 



A LEGAL PUN. 
As Jekyl was hastening with gown and with wig, 
He happened to tread on a very small pig. 
Cried he, ' That's a learn'd pig, or I'm much mistaken, 
For 'tis, you may see, an abridgment of Bacon.' 



THE REMEDY IS WORSE THAN THE DISEASE. 

You crack my pate, then bid me take the law : 
A foe will still advise us for the worse : 

From want of care I felt your angry paw, 
But I've sufficient to protect my purse. 



law's brevity. 

In a cause of three j^ears, for three pinches of snuff, 
There's a orief of three yards; I hope that's brief enough . 



IN STOLIDUM. 

A JUSTICE walking o'er the frozen Thames, 
The ice about him round began to crack : 

He said to his man, ' Here is some danger, James ; 
I prithee, help me over on thy back.' 



112 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



COUNSEL ****. 

A weighty lawsuit I maintain — 
— 'Tis for three crab-trees in a lane. 
The trees are mine, there's no dispute, 
But neighbour Quibble crops the fruit. 
My counsel Bawl, in studied speech, 
Explores, beyond tradition's reach, 
The laws of Saxons and of Danes ; 
Whole leaves of Doomsday-book explains ; 
The origin of tithes relates, 
And feudal tenures of estates : 
If now you've fairly spoke your all, 
— One word about the crab-trees, Bawl. 



From the French. 

Beneath this stone a quibbling lawyer lies, 

For sixty years who squeezed his neighbour's purses ; 

If he can see you now, I'm sure he cries 

That you have paid no fee to read these verses. 



JUDGING BY NOT HEARING. 

; Call silence ! ' the Judge to the officer cries ; 

' This hubbub and talk, will it never be done 1 

Those people this morning have made such a noise, 

We've decided ten causes without hearing one.' 

Baraton. 



VARIETIES IN LAWYERS. 

Mr Leach made a speech, 

Angry, neat, but wrong ; 
Mr Hart, on the other part, 

Was prosy, dull, and long. 
Mr Bell spoke very well, 

Though nobody knew about what; 
Mr Trower talk'd for an hour, 

Sat down, fatigued and hot. 






EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 113 

Mr Parker made the case darker, 
Which was dark enough without ; 

Mr Cooke quoted his book, 
And the Chancellor said, I doubt. 



JUSTICE. 

When painters or sculptors give Justice a face, 
On her eyes a broad bandage, to blind her, they place ; 
But methinks, with all proper respect to the law, 
She might judge so much better, the better she saw. 
Tie her hands if you please, and I care not how much, 
She maj look where she will — so you don't let her touch. 



THREE SONS. 

[Mr Baron Alderso^ and Mr Justice Patterson held Assizes at 
Cambridge, whenMr.Gunsow was appointed to preach the Assize 
sermon.] 

A Baron, a Justice, a Preacher — sons three : 
The Preacher, the son of a Gun is he ; 
The Baron, he is the son of a tree ; 
Whose son the Justice is I can't well see, 
But read him Pater-son, and all will agree 
That the son of his father the Justice must be. 



TIRE-SOME. 

Behold the sergeant full of fire, 
Long shall his hearers rue it ; 

His purple garments come from Tyre, 
His arguments go to it. 



A SUIT. 
Since Tom first went to law with Ned, 
And made the sad attack, 
'Tis said he scarce has had a coat 
To put upon his back. 
But verily the case is such, 
That Tom has had a suit too much. 
8 



Hi EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



ON CRAVEN ST, STRAND. 

In Craven St, Strand, ten attorneys find place, 
And ten dark coal barges are moored at its base. 
Fly, honesty, fly to some safer retreat ! 
There's craft in the river, and craft in the street. 

James Smith, 



AN ANSWER. 



Why should honesty seek any safer retreat, 
From lawyers or barges? — oh ! rot 'em ! 
For the lawyers are just at the top of the street, 
And the barges are just at the bottom. 

Sir George Rose. 



ON A HOUSE ONCE OCCUPIED BY A LAWYEB, WHICH 
HAD BECOME A SMITH'S SHOP. 

The house a lawyer once enjoy 'd, 

Now to a smith does pass ; 
How naturally the iron age 

Succeeds the age of brass ! 



LAWYERS AND CLIENTS. 

Two lawyers, when a knotty case was o'er, 
Shook hands, and were as good friends as before. 
' Say,' cries the losing client, ' how come you 
To be such friends, who were such foes just now ? ' 
' Thou fool,' one answers, ' lawyers, thol so keen, 
Like shears, ne'er cut themselves, but what's between. 



BOOK IX. 

EPIGRAMS ON DOCTORS AND MEDICINE. 

From Martial. 

Diaultts, late who void of skill 

Profess'cl the healing art, 
Now acts, in league with Pluto still, 

The undertaker's part. — Bouquet. 



ON DR CADE, WHO DIED FROM USING- HIS OWN RECIPE. 

Cade, who had slain ten thousand men 
With that small instrument, a pen, 
Was sick ; unluckily, he tried 
The point upon himself, and died, 

ON THE DEATH OF DR EVANS OF KNIGHTSBRIDGE. 
EyANS, of worm-destroying note, 

With little folks, who breed 'em, 

Has all his life been poisoning worms, 

And now's consign'd to feed 'em. 

Thus 'twixt our doctor and his foes 

Accounts are pretty trim ; 
For many years he lived by those, 

And now thev live on him. 



THE PHYSICIANS OF GEORGE III. 

The king employ'd three doctors daily, 
Willis, Heberden, and Baillie ; 



116 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

All exceeding skilful men, 

Baillie, Willis, Heberden, 

But doubtful which most sure to kill is, 

Baillie, Heberden, or Willis. 



TO DR HILL. 

Thou essence of dock, valerian, and sage, 
At once the disgrace and the pest of the age, 
The worst that we wish thee for all thy sad crimes 
Is to take thy own physic and read thy own rhymes. 

The Junto, with GavricK 

TO THE SAME. 

The wish should be in form reversed, 

To suit the doctor's crimes ; 
For if he takes his physic first, 

He'll never read his rhymes. — Ibid. 



DR WYNTER TO DR CHEYNE, ON HIS DIETETIC PLAN. 

Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot, 

Thou didst thy system learn ; 
From Hippocrate thou hadst it not, 

Nor Celsus, nor Pitcairn. 
Suppose we own that milk is good, 

And say the same of grass ; 
The one for babes is only food, 

The other for an ass. 
Doctor ! one new prescription izy 

(A friend's advice forgive) ; 
Eat grass, reduce thyself, and die — 

Thy patients then may live. 



ANSWER BY DR CHEYNE. 

My system, doctor, is my own, 

No tutor I pretend ; 
My blunders hurt myself alone, 

But yours, your dearest friend. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 117 

Were you to milk and straw confined, 

Thrice happy might you be ; 
Perl laps you might regain your mind, 

And from your wit get free. 
I can't your kind prescription try, 

But heartily forgive : 
'lis natural you should bid me die, 

That you yourself may live. 



ON LOED GLENBERVIE, WHO HAD ABANDONED PHYSIC. 

Glenbervie, Glenbervie, 

What's good for the scurvy ? 
But why is the doctor forgot ? 

In his arms he should quarter 

A pestle and mortar, 
For his crest an immense gallipot. 

SENT WITH A COUPLE OF DUCKS TO A PATIENT, 

By the late Br Jenner. 
I'VE despatch'd, my dear Madam, this scrap of a letter, 

To say that Miss is very much better ; 

A regular doctor no longer she lacks, 

And therefore I've sent her a couple of quacks. 

THE REPLY. 

Yes ! 'twas politic, truly, my very good friend, 
Thus a ' couple of quacks ' to your patient to send ; 
Since there's nothing so likely as * quacks,' it is plain. 
To make work for a ' regular doctor ' again. 



WHAT JENNER SAID LN ELYSIUM, ON HEARING THAT 
COMPLAINTS HAD BEEN MADE OF HIS HAVING- A 
STATUE IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE. 

England's ingratitude still blots 
The scutcheon of the brave and free ; 

I saved you from a million spots, 

And now you grudge one spot to me. — Punch, 



118 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



TO DE LEACH, WHO ADVISED DRINKING ASSES' MILK. 

And, Doctor, do you really think 

That asses' milk I ought to drink ? 

'Twould quite remove my cough, you say, 

And drive all old complaints away, 

It cured yourself ; I grant that's true ; 

But then 'twas mother's milk to you. — Br Wolcott. 



THE DOCTOR'S ARMS. 
A DOCTOR who, for want of skill, 
Did seldom cure and often kill, 
Contrived at length, by many a puff, 
And many a bottle fill'd with stuff, 
To raise his fortune and his pride, 
And in a coach, forsooth, must ride. 
His family coat, long since worn out, 
What arms to take was all the doubt. 
A friend, consulted on the case, 
Thus answer'd with a sly grimace : 
' Take some device in your own way, 
Neither too solemn, nor too gay ; 
Three ducks, suppose, white, gray, or black, 
And let your motto be, Quack, quack. 5 



From Fabian Fillet. 
His long speeches, his writings, in prose and in rhyme, 
Dr Julep declares are but meant to kill time. 
What a man is the doctor ! for do what he will, 
He something or somebody wishes to kill. 



TWO OF A TRADE. 

A doctor and an undertaker met ; 
They spoke of illness, fees, and trade, and debt ; 
And well they might, for such a dismal day 
Never was known for coughs and deaths to clay : 
Parting in fog, they both exclaim'd together, 
' Good-morning t'ye ; this is rare coffin weather/ 



EPIGBJLMS OLD AND NEW. 119 



ON A MEDICAL COXCOMB. 

When Florio for the sickly fair indites, 
And minds not what, so much as how he writes ; 
His patients, as his graceful form they scan, 
Cry with ill -omen xl rapture, ' killing man ! ' 



THE PRESCRIPTION. 

From Mariiniere. 
Would you wish to get well without failing, 

Of I know not what ill, which, I know not for why, 
For this fortnight has made you look feeble and ailing 

I prescribe you to buy, 
How much I can't say, of a root I know not, 
To mix, of I know not what simples, a potion, 
Pound, I know not what herbs, and of them make a 
lotion ; 
Which, applied piping hot, 
Will, for aught that I know, 

Make you eat, drink, and sleep, as a fortnight ago : 
But this I can venture for certain to say, 
Half the doctors in London prescribe the same way. 



ONLY HALF THE STORY. 

When quacks, as quacks may, by good luck, to be sure, 

Blunder out, at hap-hazard, a desperate cure ; 

In the prints of the day, with due pomp and parade, 

Case, patient, and doctor are amply display' d : 

All this is quite just, and no mortal can blame it : 

If they save a man's life, they've a right to proclaim it : 

But there's reason to think they might save more lives 

still, 
Did they publish a list of the number they kill. 



BAVIUS. 



By nature madman, and by study fool, 
Bavius turns doctor, and destroys by rule • 



120 . EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

With heavy face o'er dubious health presides, 

Speaks without judgment, and by guess prescribes : 

Awkwardly gay, and stupidly alert, 

In every conversation tops his part ; 

Talks much of travel, books, and state affairs, 

And takes a thousand fashionable airs ! 

He rattles, plays quadrille, sometimes can drink, 

Make love en bete — do anything but think. 

Yet to convince this leaden lump can wound, 

He weds a fortune of six thousand pound ; 

And such the influence of Corinthian brass, 

As wit unquestion'd all his blunders pass ; 

For which a poorer, or less noisy fool, 

Would stand the butt of public ridicule ! 

You'll ask why Bavius meets a different fate ? 

The secret is — he has a good estate. 



From Pelisson. 

Would you send the man you hate 
Down to Pluto's dark dominions ? 
No bravoes hire to seal his fate, — 
Bid two physicians on him wait — 
Two of different opinions ! 



THE DOCTOR. 

Three faces wear the doctor ; when first sought, 
An angel's; and a god's, the cure half wrought ; 
But when, that cure complete, he seeks his fee, 
The devil looks less terrible than he. 



BOOK X. 

EPIGEAMS ON THE FINE AKTS. 

From the Greek. 
'Tis a well-painted picture, but perish the art, 
That at two frightful objects for one makes us start. 

The skill of the painter, with nature at strife, 
This ugly squab figure has hit to the life ; 
But perish the art, that, when everything's done, 
Only makes two detestable objects of one. 



UNDER THE PICTURE OF THOMAS BRITTON, A MUSICAL 
MECHANIC. 

Thoug-h mean thy rank, yet, in thy humble cell, 
1 Did gentle peace and arts unpurchased dwell. 
Well-pleased, Apollo thither led his train, 
And music warbled in her sweetest strain. 
Cyllenius so, as fables tell, and Jove 
Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove. 
Let useless pomp behold, and blush to find 
So low a station, such a liberal mind. — Hughes. 



IMPROMPTU ON HOGARTH'S PRINT OF BATHOS, 

Or the Art of Sinking in Painting. 
All must old Hogarth's gratitude declare, 
Since he has named old Chaos for his heir ; 
And while his works hang round that anarch's throne, 
The connoisseurs will take them for his own. 

Churchill. 



122 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON A PICTURE OF MRS ARABELLA HUNT, 

Brawn after Iter death, playing on a lute. 
Were there on earth another voice like thine, 
Another hand so blest with skill divine, 
The late afflicted world some hopes might have. 
And harmony retrieve thee from the grave. 



WRITTEN UNDER LADY 'S PORTRAIT. 

When age my throbbing heart shall tame, 

And even my fair one's form shall change, 
Youths of my constant hopeless flame 

Shall hear — and haply think it strange. 
But when, bright Portrait, thou hast proved 

What beauties did my heart assail, 
They'll wonder — not that I have loved — ■ 

But that I've lived to tell the tale. 



ON A FLOWER-PIECE BY VARELOT. 

When famed Varelot this little wonder drew, 
Flora vouchsafed the glowing work to view : 
Finding the painter's science at a stand, 
The goddess snatch'd the pencil from his hand ; 
And finishing the piece, she smiling said, 
Behold one work of mine, that ne'er shall fade. 



KITTY'S PICTURE. 

If beauteous Kitty boasts a charm, 

Her picture boasts the same ; 
With life the glowing cheeks are warm, 

The sparkling eyes on flame. 
How bold the strokes ! how free the air ! 

The colours how laid on ! 
We think 'twill leave the canvas bare, 

And walk, and talk, anon. 
So far, dear painter, all is well ; 

And could'st thou more express, 
Howe'er thy art the most excel, 

Thy piece would please the less : 



EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. 123 

For he that Kitty's picture makes, 

Makes beauty's self appear ; 
But if it speaks as Kitty speaks, 

'Tis folly's self we hear. 

THE LIKEXESS DISCOYEEED. 
WHEN Chloe's picture was to Chloe shown. 
Adorn'd with charms and beauties not her own ; 
Where Reynolds, pitying nature, kindly made 
Such lips, such eyes, as Chloe never had : 
Ye gods ! she cries, in ecstasy of heart, 
How near can nature be express' d by art ! 
Well, it is wondrous like ! — nay, let me die, 
The very pouting lip — the killing eye ! 
Blurt and severe, as Manly in the play, 
Downright replies- — Like, madam, do you say? 
The picture bears this likeness, it is true, 
The canvas painted is, and so are you. 



MES OPIE TO HEE HUSBAND, 

On his painting the picture of her friend, Mrs Tiviss, 
at her request. 
Hail to thy pencil ! Well its glowing art 
Has traced those features pictured on my heart : 
Now though in distant scenes she soon will rove, 
Still shall I here behold the friend 1 love ; 
Still see that smile endearing, truly kind, 
The eye's mild beam that speaks the candid mind, 
Which sportive oft, yet fearful to offend, 
By humour charms, but never wounds a friend. 

Within my breast contending passions rise 
When this loved semblance fascinates my eyes; 
Now pleased, I mark the painter's skilful line, 
Now joy, because the skill I mark'd was thine ; 
And while I prize the gift by thee bestow' d, 
My heart proclaims I'm of the Giver proud : 
Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife, 
And now the Friend exults, and now the Wife. 



124 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

PRE-RAPHAELITISM. 

Claude's distances are too confused — 

One floating scene — nothing made out — 
For which he ought to be abused, 

Whose works have been so cried about. 
Give me the pencil whose amazing style 
Makes birds appear at twenty mile ; 
And to my view eyes, legs, and claws will bring. 
With every feather of each tail and wing. 



OK THE FADING OF SIR J. REYNOLDS' S PICTURES. 

The art of painting was at first designed 
To bring the dead, our ancestors, to mind ; 
But this great painter has reversed the plan, 
And made the picture die before the man. 



ON ART-UNIONS. 

That picture-raffles will conduce to nourish 
Design, or cause good colouring to flourish, 
Admits of logic-chopping and wise sawing, 
For surely lotteries encourage drawing. — T. Hood. 



chantrey's woodcocks. 

[In 1829 Sir F. Chantrey shot two woodcocks at one shot, and 
afterwards sculptured the birds in marble.] 

Their good and ill from the same source they drew, 

Here shrined in marble by the hand that slew. 

Lord Jeffrey. 

The carver's knife in vain their limbs shall sever, 

In Chantrey's marble they unite for ever. 

P. R. Duncan. 

Chantrey invented the best of gun-locks, 

Which cocks one hammer, and hammers two cocks. 

F. P. Muirliead. 

He hit the birds, and with an aim as true, 

And hand as skilful, hit their likeness too. — The same. 

With gun or chisel thou art doubly clever, 
Chantrey ! thy twins in death are twins for ever. 

Boulioii. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 125 

Shall Chan trey be call'd a destroyer or not ? 
He slaughters indeed his two birds at one shot ; 
But. pitying his victims, with generous endeavour 
To make more amends, by his chisel so clever, 
He revives them to live on in marble for ever. 

Wrangham. 

THE MUSICAL CONTEST. 

Some say, compared to Bononcini, 
That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny : 
Others aver, that he to Handel 
Is scarcely fit to hold a candle. 
Strange that such difference should be 
'Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee. — Swift. 



OX MADRIOALS. 

When two throats together squall, 

It may be called a Mad-rig-al(l). — Swift. 



WHICH is it? 
So rude and tuneless are thy lays, 

The weary audience vow — 
'Tis not th' Arcadian swain that plays, 

Bat 'tis his herds that low. 



THE MUSICIAN IN DESPAIR. 

Unable to de scant in tunable rhyme, 
My spirits unstrung, and my pulse out of time ; 
Of no crotchet of note my slow heart is possess'd, 
Each jollity pa uses, each fancy's at rest. 

Unnatural Fate, too discordant by far, 
On all my gay lessons has doubled the bar ; 
Still sharply repeats it, denies me repose, 
And slurs all my measures, and varies my woes. 

When I bid her move slow, then she jigs it away, 
And basely acts counter to all I can say; 



125 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

While raging I shake with a treble vexation, 
And A-MI is the tenor of each lamentation. 
My ideas turn'd grave, dance in concert no more, 
Or beat to those movements no time can restore ; 
Yon cliff while I scale that o'erlooks the flat plain, 
Where a strong chord shall end me, and with the first 
strain. 



THE POWER OF MUSIC. 

When Orpheus went down to the regions below, 

Which men are forbidden to see ; 
He tuned up his lyre, as old histories show, 

To set his Eurydice free. 
All hell was astonish'd a person so wise 

Should rashly endanger his life, 
And venture so far ; but how vast the surprise 

When they heard he was come for his wife ! 
To find out a punishment due to his fault, 

Old Pluto long puzzled his brain ; 
But hell had not torment sufficient, he thought, 

So he gave him his wife back again. 
But pity succeeding, found place in his heart, 

And, pleased with his playing so well, 
He took her again, in reward of his art ; 

Such merit had music in hell. 



ON A MUSICIAN" AND DANCING - MASTER, WHO DE- 
CAMPED WITH CASH SUBSCRIBED FOR A MUSICAL 
PUBLICATION. 

His time was fleet, his touch was fleet ; 

Our gold he nimbly finger' d, — 
Alike alert with hands and feet, 

His movements have not linger'd. 
Where lies the wonder of the case ? 

A moment's thought detects it : 
His practice has been thorough-bass, 

A chord will be his exit. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 127 

Yet while we blame his hasty flight, 

Our censure may be rash : 
A traveller is surely right 

To chauge his notes for cash. 



From Baif. 

If to sing with a voice that would beat Stentor's hollow, 

Be finely to sing, thou may'st rival Apollo : 

But if that to sing without taste, ear, or science, 

And completely to set time and tune at defiance, 

Be vilely to sing, then we never shall see, 

Till the end of the world, a worse singer than thee. 



ON MAEGAEETTA, AN AWKWAED PEIMA DONNA. 

Whene'ee the Tuscan spreads her vocal charms, 
Our eyes defend our ears from soothing harms : 
Her steps deliver whom her strains enslave — 
She thrills to conquer, and she treads to save. 



ON SEEING A MISEE AT A CONOEET AT TATJXHALL. 

Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, 
To calm the tyrant, and relieve the opprest : 
But Yauxhall's concert's more attractive power 
Unlock'd Sir Richard's pocket at threescore. 
strange effect of music's matchless force, 
To extract two shillings from a miser's purse ! 



UNPLEASANT MUSIC. 

IN fields Bibaldo stray 'd 

May's tapestry to see ; 

And hearing on a tree 
A cuckoo sing, sigh'd to himself, and said, 

' Lo how, alas ! even birds sit mocking me.' 



ON A BAD SINGEE. 



Swans sing before they die : 'twere no bad thing 
Should certain persons die before they sing. — Coleridge. 



BOOK XL 

CONVIVIAL EPIGRAMS. 

From the Greek. 

With me the rosy goblet share, 
With me enjoy the youthful hours, 

With me caress the frolic fair, 

With me compose the wreath of flowers ! 

Now drive with me dull thought away, 
With me defiance bid to sorrow, 

Be merry tliou with me to-day, 

And Til be wise with thee to-morrow ! 



From the Greek. 

Not the planet that, sinking in ocean, 

Foretells future storms to our tars ; 
Not the sea, when in fearful commotion 

Its billows swell high as the stars ; 
Not the thunder that rolls in October, 

Is so hateful to each honest fellow, 
As he who remembers, when sober, 

The tales that were told him when mellow. 



From the Greeh. 

On marble tombs let no rich essence flow, 
No chaplet bloom, no lamp suspended glow : 
Vain cost ! while yet I live these honours pay; 
Wine can but moisten ashes into clay. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 129 

From the Greek. 
Kemark how wisely ancient art provides 
The broad-brim m'd cup, with flat expanded sides ; 
A cup contrived for man's discreeter use, 
And sober potions of the generous juice : 
But woman's more ambitious thirsty soul 
Soon long'd to revel in the plenteous bowl ; 
Deep and capacious as the swelling hold 
Of some stout bark, she shaped the hollow mould ; 
Then turning out a vessel like a tun, 
Simpering, exclaim'd, ' Observe ! I drink but one.' 



From Martial. 
Acerra smells of last night's wine, you say. 
Don't wrong Acerra ; he topes on till day. 

Elphinstone. 



FIVE REASONS FOR DRINKING. 

Translated from the Latin by Bean Aldrich. 
Good wine, a friend, or being dry. 
Or lest we should be by-and-by, 
Or any other reason why. 



A TOPING CLUB. 

The jolly members of a toping club 
Like pipe-staves, are but hoop'd ; 
And in a close confederacy link 
For nothing else, but only to hold drink. 



HOW SUMMER CAME. 

The Prince came in, and said 'twas cold, 
Then put to his head the rummer. 

Till swallow after swallow came, 
When ke pronounced it summer. 



PORT AND CLARET. 

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood ; 
Prime was his mutton, and his qlarel good 
9 



130 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

' Let him drink port,' an English statesman cried. 
He drank the poison, and his spirit died. — John Home, 



THE DROPSICAL MAN. 

A JOLLY brave toper, who could not forbear, 

Though his life was in danger, old port and stale beer, 

Gave the doctors the hearing — but still would drink on, 

Till the dropsy had swell 5 d him as big as a tan. 

The more he took physic, the worse still he grew, 

And tapping was now the last thing he could do. 

Affairs at this crisis, and doctors come down, 

He began to consider ; so sent for his son. 

'Tom, see by what courses I've shortened my life, 

I'm leaving the world ere I'm forty and five ; 

More than probable 'tis, that in twenty-four hours 

This manor, this house, and estate, will be yours : 

My early excesses may teach you this truth, 

That 'tis working for death to drink hard in one's youth.' 

Says Tom (who's a lad of a generous spirit, 

And not like young rakes, vvho're in haste to inherit), 

'Sir, don't be dishearten' d, although it be true 

The operation is painful and hazardous too ; 

'Tis not more than many a man has gone through. 

And then, as for years, you may yet be call'd young ; 

Your life after this may be happy and long.' 

( Don't flatter me, Tom ? ' was the father's reply, 

With a jest in his mouth, and a tear in his eye : 

'Too well, by experience, my vessels, thou know'st, 

No sooner are tapp'd, but they give up the ghost.' 



A PUN. 

Imitated from Martia I* 

A landlord of Bath put upon me a queer hum, 

I ask'd him for punch, and the dog gave me mere rum. 

Callidus imposuit nuper mihi Caupo, Raven nae, 
Cum peterum mixtuui, vendidet llle merum. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 131 

THE BREWER'S COACHMAN. 

Honest William, an easy and good-natured fellow, 

Would a little too oft get a little too mellow. 

Body- coachman was he to an eminent brewer — 

No better e'er sat in a box, to be sure. 

His coach was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses 

Took that care of their babes that he took of his horses. 

He had these — ay, and fifty good qualities more, 

But the business of tippling could ne'er be got o'er : 

So his master effectually mended the matter, 

By hiring a man who drank nothing but water. 

i Now, William,' says he, ' you see the plain case, 

Had you drank as he does, you'd kept a good place.' 

' Drink water ! ' quoth William, ' had all men done so, 

You never had wanted a coachman, I trow. 

They're soakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches, 

Who spend that you brewers may ride in your coaches. 5 



ON A PUBLIC -HOUSE. 

Of this establishment how can we speak ? 
Its cheese is mity, and its ale is weak. 



PRESENTS. 

A hamper I received of wine, 

As good, Dick says, as e'er was tasted ; 
And Dick may be supposed to know, 
For he contrived his matters so 
As every day with me to dine 

Much longer than the liquor lasted: 
If such are presents, while I live, 
Oh ! let me not receive, but give. 

THE CANDID CONFESSION. 

A HUMOROUS fellow, in a tavern late, 
Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate ; 
The surgeon, with his instruments and skill, 
Scratches his skull deeper and deeper still 
To feel his brains, and try if they were sound ; 
And as he keeps ado about the wound, 



132 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

The fellow cries, ' Good surgeon, spare your pains ; 
When I began this brawl I had no brains.' 



THE BRAINLESS TOPER. 

' Brother bucks, your glasses drain.' 
' Tom, 'tis strong, and sparkling red ' — 

' Never fear, 'twon't reach my brain : ' 
'No — that's true — but 'twill your head.' 

From Pannard. 
Clear brook, whose grateful murmur lulls the ear, 

Charming this melancholy shade, 

How sweet, beneath the foliage laid, 
To breathe repose, and taste the vernal year ! 

Near thee, 
No thought on grandeur or on wealth bestowing, 

I were the happiest, far, of men below : 
No — nought were wanting to my destiny, 

Could I but see old claret flowing, 

As now your limpid waters flow ! 



From Maynard. 
Come, my friend, let's push about 

The sparkling flask, and banish sorrow! 
Secure to-day ; for 'tis a doubt 

If sullen Fate will grant to-morrow ! 



A DRY SOUL. 

You often pity honest Ned, 
Condemn'd, you say, to write for bread : 
His liberal soul, till Dodsley pays, 
Still doom'd to fast — or chew the bays. 

Yet, by that jovial, ruddy look, 
Not gain'd by poring o'er his book ; 
That clammy ale, his table spilt on, 
That tankard, covered with a Milton ; 
By all these tokens, Ned, I fear, 
Writes not so much for bread — as beer. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 133 

A COWARD. 

From Maijnard. 
Yes, I own that my courage was never so strong 

As to set at defiance Death's javelin, 
By driving me on, midst the first of the throng, 

To the storm of a hastion or ravelin. 
Who pleases may win of such deeds all the merit : 
To rival of Csesar the valorous spirit 

Is a thing that surpasses my skill. 
My humble desires only wish to be able, 
With my glass in my hand, and feet under the table, 

All my cares and my sorrows to kill. 

TO A POETICAL WINE-MERCHANT. 

From the French. 
Yottr exquisite verses, your exquisite wine, 

In all quarters, my friend, are well known ; 
The one even Bacchus might swear is divine, 

The other even Phoebus might own. 



THE TRANSFER. 

"Whence comes it, that in Clara's face 

The lily only has a place ? 

Is it, that the absent rose 

Is gone to paint her husband's nose ? 

EPITAPH. 

From the French. 
Here Bibo reposes : on earth while a dweller 

His sole occupation (indeed 'tis no fable) 
Was to go from the table to visit the cellar. 

And back from the cellar return to the table. 



BOOK XII. 

TOPOGRAPHICAL EPIGRAMS. 

HEAD-GEAR. 

The Turk in linen wraps his head, 

The Persian his in lawn too, 
The Russe with sable furs his cap, 

And change will not be drawn to. 
The Spaniard's constant to his block, 

The French inconstant ever, 
But of all felts that may be felt, 

Give me your English beaver. — Heywood. 



WRITTEN ON A PANE OF GLASS, AT LITTLEMORE, 
NEAR OXFORD. 

This little village serves to show 

What lengths the pride of man will go ; 

For, in whatever state or place, 

(As if contentment were disgrace,) 

Ambition prompts us to desi?e 

Another post, a little higher. 

Search this capacious globe all o'er, 

You still will wish a little more. — Dr Bacon. 



ON THE BRIDGE AT BLENHEIM. 

The lofty arch his high ambition shows, 
The stream, an emblem of his bounty, flows. 

Dr Ecanz. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 135 

ON THE SAME. 

The minnows, as through this vast arch they pass, 
* Cry, How like whales we look ! thanks to your grace ! ' 

Pope. 



BLENHEIM HOUSE. 

* See, sir, see here's the grand approach — 
This way is for his Grace's coach ; 
There lies the bridge, and here's the clock ; 
Observe the lion and the cock, 
The spacious court, the colonnade, 
And mark how wide the hall is made ! 
The chimneys are so well design'd, 
They never smoke in any wind ; 
This gallery's contrived for walking, 
The windows to retire and talk in ! 
The council-chamber for debate, — 
And all the rest are rooms of state.' 
' Thanks, sir,' cried I, ( 'tis very fine ; 
But* where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine? 
I find, by all that you've been telling, 
That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.' 



ON THE RIVER DANUBE. 

See how the wand'ring Danube flows, 

Eealms and religions parting ! 
A friend to all true Christian foes, 

To Peter, Jack, and Martin. 
Now Protestant, and Papist now ; 

Not constant long to either ; 
At length an infidel does grow, 

And ends his journey, neither. — Swift. 



ON THE RIVERS OF ENGLAND AND AMERICA. 

In England, rivers are all males — 
For instance, Father Thames. 

Whoever in Columbia sails, 

Finds them Ma'amselles or Dames : 



136 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

For there the softer sex presides, 
Aquatic, I assure ye ; 

And Mrs Sippi rolls her tides 
Eesponsive to 'Miss Souri. 



ON THE SOUTHAMPTON AND REDBRIDGE CANAL. 

Southampton's wise sons found the river so large, 
Though 'twould carry a ship, 'twould not carry a barge ; 
But soon this defect their sage noddles supplied, 
For they cut a snug ditch to run close to its side : 
Like the man, who, contriving a hole through his wall 
To admit his two cats — the one great, t'other small, 
When a great hole was made for great puss to pass through, 
Had a little hole cut for the little cat too. 



ON THE STATUE OF GEORGE I. ON THE STEEPLE OF 
BLOOMSBURY CHURCH. 

The king of Great Britain was reckon'd before 

The head of the church, by all good Christian people : 

His subjects of Bloomsbury have added one more 
To his titles, and made him the head of the steeple. 



ON A LEARNED DEVICE OVER THE GREAT GATE 
AT BLENPIEIM, 

A hvge Lion tearing a Cock in Pieces. 
Had Marlborough's troops in Gaul no better fought 
Than Van, to grace his fame, in marble wrought, 
No more in arms, than he in emblems, skill'd, 
The Cock had drove the Lion from the held. 



ON THE WIDE TROUSERS ONCE IN FASHION. 

The garb Dutch or Cossack in which our beau kind 

Parade up and down all so spruce, 
Of two towns in France ever put me in mind, 

And these are Toulon and Toulouse. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 137 

ON THE PICTURE-GALLERY AT HATFIELD PLACE. 

Your room, though long and narrow, 

And as straight as any arrow, 
Will ne'er with your other rooms tally, 

But give it your son,* . 

'Twill be excellent fun 
To hear it call'd Cranbourn Alley. — Ld Ersliine. 



LIVING IN CLOVER. 

The cit complains to all he meets, 
That grass will grow in Dublin streets, 

And swears that all is over ! 
Short-sighted mortal, can't you see - 
Your mourning will be changed to glee ? 

For then you'll live in clover. 



ON PAPER CREDIT IN SCOTLAND. 

To tell why banks thus in Scotland obtain, 
Kequires not the head of a Newton or Napier ; 

Without calculation the matter's quite plain, 

Where there's plenty of rags, you'll have plenty of paper. 



ON THE WEATHER OP SCOTLAND. 

Scotland ! thy weather's like a modish wife ; 
Thy winds and rain for ever are at strife ; 
Like thee the termagants their blustering try, 
And when they can no longer scold, they cry. 

Aaron Hill. 



BATH AND BRISTOL. 

[Impromptu by an Alderman at a public dinner in Bath, at which, 
members of the Bristol Corporation were present.] 

King Bladud once perceived his hogs 

A wallowing in these steaming bogs, 

From whence arise salubrious springs, 

Twice honour'd by the best of kings. 

* Viscount Cranbourn, son of the Marquis of Salisbury. 



133 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

He drove them hence in mighty wrath, 
And built the stately town of Bath : — 
The hogs thus banish'd by their prince, 
Have lived in Bristol ever since. 



COLOGNE. 

In Coln, the town of monks and bones, 

And pavements fang'd with murderous stones, 

And rags and hags and hideous wenches, 

I counted two-and-seventy stenches. 

All well-defined, and several stinks ! 

Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks, 

The river Khine, it is well known, 

Doth wash your city of Cologne ; 

But tell me, nymphs, what power divine 

Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine. — Coleridge. 



THE RIVER LESSE IN BELGIUM. 

Our Euclid may go to the wall, 

For we've solved what he never could guess ; 
How the fish in the river are small, 

But the river they live in is Lesse. 



ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO WALMER CASTLE. 

'TWAS thought the Queen would this year go 
To Brighton as she did the former ; 

She changed her mind, because we know 
Brighton is cold, the Duke's is Walmer. 



ON THE NATIONAL GALLERY. 

The trustees of this place on such daubs spend their gold, 
That the picture is bought while the buyers are sold. 

Punch, 1853. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 139 



BRIGHTON. 

Why bad drainage should frighten 
The people from Brighton 

Is what I can hardly explain ; 
I took purse, wife, and lodgings, 
And spite all my dodgings, 

I found there no end of a drain. — Punch. 



BOOK XIII. 

UNGALLANT EPIGRAMS. 

A WELL-MATCHED PAIE. 

A headstrong wife, who oft came in for blame, 
When charged with scant obedience, would reply, 

' Why snarls my spouse ? our wishes are the same : 
He would the ruler be, and so would I.' 

Quarterly Review. 



TO LUCASIA, ON HER IVORY TEETH. 

LuCASiA, never blush to own 

The treasure which your lips disclose ; 
There nature vulgar teeth had sown, 

But finest polish'd ivory rose. 
These fear not age, that common foe, 

Who steals on beauty in its wane ; 
And, strung like pearl, that graceful row 

Will not, like others, cause a pain. 
Yet, if you can with equal skill, 

Let with the teeth the breath agree : 
You should enclose your scents, not ill, 

In that fair box of ivory. 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 

I TOOK you, deceiver, 'for better for worse,' 

Submitting to Wedlock's hard fetter : 

While your worse part has daily grown still more perverse, 

I have not discovered your better. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 141 

AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Says the wife of a Cantab, i Pray tell me how is it 
I'm your dear, and your love, when I go on a visit, 
But when I return I'm the plague of your life, 
And we pass all our time in reproaches and strife ? ' 
Says the Cantab, ' I'll tell you ; when you are afar, 
I do what 1 like, without hindrance or jar ; 
Though my rule you despise, you must bow to the laws 
That regulate matter, and this is the cause : 
Your attractions increase with diminish' d resistance, 
And the force of my love as the square of the distance.' 

E. Jermyn. 



THE UNFORTUNATE REQUEST. 

' Dear Cupid,' I cried, 'do consult with your mother, 

To subdue my dear Chloe's insensible heart ! ' 

Kind Cupid obey'd ; Venus too play'd her part, 

And my Chloe at length fell in love— with another. 



ON MADAM BLAIZE, THE GLORY OF HER SEX. 

Good people all, with one accord, 

Lament for Madam Blaize, 
Who never wanted a good word— 

From those who spake her praise. 
The needy seldom pass'd her door, 

And always found her kind ; 
She freely lent to all the poor— 

Who left a pledge behind. 
She strove the neighbourhood to please 

With manners wondrous winning; 
And never follow'd wicked ways — 

Except when she was sinning. 
At church, with silks and satins new, 

With hoop of monstrous size ; 
She never slumber'd in her pew — 

But when she shut her eyes. 
Her love was sought, I do aver, 

By twenty beaux and more ; 



11-3 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 

The king -himself has follow'd her — 

When she has walk'd before. 
But now, her wealth and finery fled, 

Her hangers-on cut short all ; 
The doctors found, when she was dead, 

Her last disorder — mortal. 
Let us lament in sorrow sore ; 

For Kent Street well may say, 
That, had she lived a twelvemonth more, 

She had not died to-day. — Goldsmith. 

'HE THAT IS DOWN NEED FEAR NO FALL.' 

Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter, 
Yet let not Tom his stars too sorely curse, 

As there's no hope his wife will e'er be better, 
So there's no fear she ever can be worse. 



From Breheuf. 

Phillis, each day your tongue, 'tis true, 

Attacks me with its slanderous sting, 
Yet, with a complaisance quite new, 

Your charms and virtues will I sing. 
Think not my strain will tedious be ; 

In no long compliments I deal — 
To make or hear them is to me 

The worst of punishments to feel. 
You have a boundless store of gold ; 

Not a guinea I inherit ; 
Now, Phillis, in few words Pve told 

All my crimes, and all your merit. 



SCRATCH YOUR HEAD. 

From a MS. 17th Cent. 
A woman lately fiercely did assayle 
Her husband with sharp touug, but sharper nayle ; 
But one that heard and saw it, to her saide, 
' Why do you use him thus ? he is your heade.' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 143 

' He is my heade, indeed,' saith she, ' 'tis true ; 
Sir, I may scratch my heade, and so may you.' 



THE WONDER. 

My heart still hovering round about you, 
I thought I could not live without you ; 
Now we've lived three months asunder, 
How I lived with you is the wonder. 

ONE OR TEN? 

Says Giles, ' My wife and I are one ; 

Yet faith, I know not why, Sir ! ' 
Quoth Jack, 'You're ten, if I speak true ; 

She's one, and you're a cipher.' 



THE THORN SURVIVES THE ROSE. 

As gay Lord Edward, in a lively freak, 

Kiss'd ancient Margaret, for the dame was kind, 

He found, although the rose had left her cheek, 
The thorn upon her chin remain' d behind. 



A LADY ON BEING ASKED WHAT THIS WORLD 
WAS LIKE. 

This world is a prison in every respect, 
Whose walls are the heavens in common ; 

The gaoler is sin, and the prisoners men, 
And the fetters are nothing but — women* 



THE FEMALE TULIP. 

Selinda sure's the brightest thing 

That decks our earth, or breathes our air : 

Mild are her looks like* opening spring, 
And like the blooming summer fair. 

But yet her wit's so very small, 
That all her charms appear to lie 

Like glaring colours on a wall, 

And strike no further than the eye. 



144 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 

Our eyes luxuriously she treats, 
Our ears are absent from the feast : 

One sense is surfeited with sweets, 
Starved or disgusted are the rest. 

■ So have I seen with aspect bright, 
And tawdry pride, a tulip swell, 
Blooming and beauteous to the sight, 
Dull and insipid to the smell. 



THE CHARMER IN THE DARK. 

From Martial. 

Whilst in the dark, on thy soft hand I hung, 
And heard the tempting syren in thy tongue, 
What flames, what darts, what anguish I endured ! 
But, when the candle enter'd, T was cured. 



THE PRETTY VIXEN. 



With angel face, and faultless form, 

How strange ! that you're not to my liking ; 

Yet, when you cuff your spouse, and storm, 
I own your beauty — vastly striking ! 



WOMEN'S FAULTS. 

We men have many faults ; 

Poor women have but two : — 
There's nothing good they say, 

There's nothing good they do. 



RELATED BY MARRIAGE. 

Loud bray'd an ass. Quoth Kate, ' My dear 
(To spouse, with scornful carriage), 

One of your relatives I hear.' 

' Yes, love,' said he, ' by marriage.' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AXD NEW. 145 

SHORT-LIVED LOVE. 

From the French of the Marquis de Peza. 
By thee on the sand of this shore, 

Our ciphers in union were traced ; 
But the fugitive billows roll'd o'er, 

And the writing was quickly effaced. 
Yet this emblem of love, though so frail 

That the water soon swept it away, 
Not so soon, thou false one ! did fail, 

As the passion 'twas meant to display. 

R. A. Davenport. 



OX A LADY'S SECRECY. 

6 She's secret as the grave,' allow 
I do ; I cannot doubt it : 

But 'tis a grave with tombstone on, 
That tells you all about it. 



OX A PAIXTED LADY. 

Iris, you are unjust to say 

That Damon is a perjured lover ; 
For. though no more he owns your sway, 

No breach of faith can I discover. 
That you a Yenus were, he swore, 

Nay, swore in beauty you surpass'd her 
But still he meant not to adore 

A goddess made of paint and plaster. 



THE BEARDLESS SEX. 

How wisely Nature, ordering all below, 
Forbade a beard on woman's chin to grow ! 
For how could she be shaved, whate'er the skill. 
Whose tongue would never let her chin be still 1 



A HAPPY DEFECT. 

Sixce no woman could live unless constantly heard, 
Nature, seeing the danger, would give her no beard, — 
10 



116 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

So made her face smooth, — for how could she shave 
Wlio her tongue could not hold though her throat it would 
save ? 



ON A VAIN BEAUTY. 

Is Molly Fowle immortal ? No ! 
Yes ; but she is ! — I'll prove her so, — 
She's fifteen now, and was, I know, 
Fifteen full fifteen years ago ! — Hans de Veil. 



ON A LADY'S LIBRARY. 

To Chloe's study shall we go, 
For ladies now all read, you know : 
Oh, what a splendid sight is there ! 
; Twould make the dullest hermit stare. 
There stand, all ranged in proud array, 
Each French romance and modern play ; 
Love's Magazine of flames and darts, 
Whole histories of eyes and hearts. 
But oh, view well the outward scene, 
You'll never need to look within : 
What Chloe loves, she plainly shows, 
For, lo ! her very boohs are beaux. 



PHILLIS S AGE. 

How old may Phillis be, you ask, 

Whose beauty thus all hearts engages ? 

To answer is no easy task ; 
For she has really two ages. 

Stiff in brocade, and pinch'd in stays, 
Her patches, paint, and jewels on : 

All day let envy view her face, 
And Phillis is but twenty-one. 

Paint, patches, jewels laid aside, 

At night astronomers agree, 
The evening has the day belied ; 

And Phillis is come forty-three. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 147 

CAUTION. 
A scholar was about to marry. 
His friend said, ' Ere thou dost, be wary ; 
So wise art thou that I foresee 
A wife will make a fool of thee.' — W. S. Landor. 



HOW TO USE A FAN. 

Amelia waved her fan with glee, 

And being in a playful mood, 
She gave the airy toy to me, 

And bade me flirt it, if I could. 
The pleasing toil 1 quick began, 

But jealous pangs my bosom hurt : 
' Madam, I cannot flirt a fan, 

But with your leave I'll fan a flirt/ 



ON A LADY WHO BOASTED OP HER PRETTY FEET. 

'No wonder Mary's feet are small,' 

Jack one day smiling said, 
' If Nature stole a part from thence 

To form a thicker head/ 
' In point of stealing, sure,' cries Dick, 

' That, Nature had no hand in ; 
And if she made her head so thick, 

; Twas not with understanding.' 



MY THREE WIVES. 

Though marriage by some folks 

Be reckon' d a curse, 
Three wives I did marry 

For better or worse — ■ 
The first for her person, 

The next for her purse, 
The third for a warming-pan, 

Doctress, and nurse. — Bastard. 



148 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE LACONIC FEMALE. 

Celia her sex's foible slmns ; 

Her tongue no length of larum runs ; 

Two phrases answer every part — 

One gain'd, one breaks her husband's heart : 

I will, she said, when made a bride ; — 

I won't — through all her life beside. 

THE WEDDING-DAY. 

Keeplng- Tom's wedding-day, his friends 
Boozed till their brains were addled ; 

They drank his bridal day ! Tom sigh'd, — 
'That same day I was saddled. 3 



THE DANDY S REVENGE. 

The demon of fashion Sir Fopling bewitches, 

The reason his lady betrays ; 
For as she is resolved upon wearing the breeches, 

In revenge he has taken the stays. 



OPPOSITE EFFECTS FROM LIKE CAUSES. 

That opposite effects may flow 

From the same cause, 'tis clear 's no hum ; 
For money makes the mare to go, 

But also makes the men to come. 



TO A STOUT ELDERLY LADY. 

You ask me, your servant, to give you in rhyme, 
Some apt definitions of space and of time. 
If your ladyship look'd at your form and your face, 
You'd gain excellent notions of time and of space. 



BOOK XIV. 

HISTORY IN EPIGRAMS. 

ON HOMER. 

From Colophon some deem thee sprung ; 

From Smyrna some, and some from Chios ; 
These noble Salamis have sung, 

While those proclaim thee born in Ios ; 
And others cry up Thessaty, 
The mother of the Lapithae. 
Thus each to Homer has assign 'd 
The birthplace which best suits his mind ; 
But if I read the volume right, 

By Phoebus to his followers given, 
I'd say, they are mistaken quite, 

And that his real country's Heaven ; 
While for his mother, she can be 
No other than Calliope. 

Antipater of Sid on (Mervvale). 



ON MILTIADES. 
MlLTiADES ! thy valour best 

(Although in every region known). 
The men of Persia can attest, 

Taught by thyself at Marathon. 



ON HERODOTUS. 

The muses to Herodotus, one day, 
Came, nine of them, and dined ; 
And in return, their host to pay, 
£ql C \ 54rey left a book behind. 



150 EPIGRAMS OLD AND KE¥. 

ON ALFRED THE GREAT. 

Keplete with soul, the monarch stood alone, 
And built on Freedom's basis England's throne 
A legislator, patriot, warrior, sage, 
He died the light of a benighted age. — Dibdin. 



THE MAID OF ORLEANS. 

Fair Amazon ! the cruel foe 

Who to the flames consigned. 
Thy form, his scorn of laws display'd, 

And base perfidious mind ! 
But just was Fate, by such a death 

Who raised thee to the sky ; 
For she who like Alcides lived, 

Should like Alcides die. — Mallieroe. 



THE RED AND WHITE ROSES. 

While Eed and White Eose dwelt as neighbours long, 

Their rivalry for foremost place was strong ; 

But now both roses in one blossom blend, 

In happiest mode the quarrel finds its end. 

A single rose springs up, and blooms, 'tis true ; 

Yet hath it all th' endowments of the two ; 

Since in itself of either rose the grace, 

Form, beauty, colour, health, and strength find place. 

Let him who's loved either rose alone, 

Find the whole charm still in the blended one. 

But woe to him who union hates and scorns ; 

For this same rose hath yet for foes its thorns. 

Quarterly Review. 



ON SIR THOMAS MORE, CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND. 

When More some years had Chancellor been, 

No more suits did remain ; 
The same shall never more be seen, 

Till More be there again. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 151 

UNDER THE STATUE OF EDWARD VI., IN ST THOMAS'S 
HOSPITAL. 

On Edward's brow no laurels cast a shade, 
Nor at his feet are warlike spoils display' d : 
Yet here, since first his bounty raised the pile, 
The lame grow active, and the languid smile. 
See this, ye chiefs, and, struck with envy, pine ; 
To kill is brutal, but to save, divine ! 

ELIZABETH. 

If ever royal virtues crown'd a crown, 

If ever courage dwelt with courtesy, 
If ever Princess put all princes down 

For valour, wisdom, prudence, equity, — 
This, this was she — who, in despite of death, 
Eeigns still adored, admired Elizabeth. 
Spain's rod, Rome's ruin, Netherlands' relief, 
Heaven's gem, earth's joy, world's wonder, nations' 
chief (!!!) 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

Nature ! to Old England still 

Continue these mistakes ; 
Give us for all our Kings, such Queens, 

And for our Dux, such Drakes. 



ON THE EXECUTION OF THE EARL OF ESSEX. 

When noble Essex, Blount, and Danvers died, 
One saw them suffer who had heard them tried ; 
And, sighing, said : ' When such brave soldiers die, 
Is J t not great pity, think you ? ' * No,' said I ; 
* There is no man of sense in all the city 
Will say 'tis great, but rather little pity.' 

Sir John Harrington. 



ON SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

HADST thou served the heroine all thy days, 
Had Heaven from storms of envy screen'd thy bays ; 



152 EPIGKAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Haclst thou still flourish'd in a warlike reign, 
Thy sword had made a conquest like thy pen ! 
But nought to such untimely fate could bring 
The valiant subject, but a timorous King. 



TO THE HOUSEHOLD. 

What can the cause be, when the king hath given 

His poet sack, the household will not pay ? 
Are they so scanted in their store, or driven 

For want of knowing the poet to say him nay? 
Well they should know him ; would the king but grant 

His poet leave to sing his household true, 
He'd frame such ditties of their store and want, 

Would make the very green-cloth to look blue ; 
And rather wish in their expense of sack, 

To the allowance from the king to use, 
As the old bard should no canary lack, 

"Twere better spare a butt than spoil his muse. 
For in the genius of a poet's verse, 
The king's fame lives. Go now, deny his tierce. 

Ben Jon son. 



TO CARDINAL RICHELIEU. 

Sick of a life, possess'd in vain, 

I soon shall wait upon the ghost 
Of our late monarch ; in whose reign, 

None, who had merit, miss'd a post. 

Then will I charm him with your name, 
Then all your glorious wonders done ; 

The power of France,— the Spaniard's shame, 
The rising honours of his son. 

Grateful, the royal shade will smile, 
And dwell, delighted, on your name ; 

Sweetly appeased his griefs beguile, 
And drown old losses in new fame. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AZS'D XEW. 153 

But when lie asks me. in what post 
I did your wish'd commands obey, 

And how I shared your favours most ; 

— What would you please to have me say ? 

ISIaynard. 

JS.B. To this the cardinal answer'd — i Nothing.' 



TEE COMMONS TO CHAELES II. 

In all humanity we crave 

Our Sovereign may be our slave ; 

And humbly beg that he may be 

Be tray 'd by us most loyally. 

And if he please once to lay down 

His sceptre, dignity, and crown, 

We'll make him, for the time to come, 

The greatest Prince in Christendom. 



THE ANSWER. 



Charles at this time, having no need, 
Thanks you as much as if he did. — Rochester 



OX DRYDEX. 

Drydex, in immortal strain, 
Had raised the table-round again, 
But that a ribald king and court 
Bade him toil on, to make them sport; 
Demanded for their niggard pay, 
Fit for their souls, a looser lay, 
Licentious satires, song and play : 
The world defrauded of the high design, 
Profaned the God-given strength, and marred the lofty 
line. — Walter Scott. 



TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 

By various means th' immortal Homer seeks 
To raise the fame of his heroic Greeks : 



154 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

For one, from coast to coast confusedly hurl'd, 
To give him room, the bard invents a world ; 
Whilst one for ever in the trenches lies, 
And, where he gain'd so many battles, dies : 
In thee the double character unites, 
Ulysses wanders, and Achilles rights. 



THE TWO CHURCHILLS. 

John Churchill, Bulie of Marlborough, and Churchill 
the Poet. 

In Anna's wars immortah Churchill rose, 
And, great in arms, subdued Britannia's foes ; 
A-greater Churchill now demands our praise, 
And the palm yields to the poetic bays. 
Though John fought nobly at his army's head, 
And slew his thousands with the balls of lead ; 
Yet must the hero to the bard submit, 
Who hurls, unmatch'd, the thunderbolts of wit. 



ON A MAGAZINE BUILT IN DUBLIN. 

Behold a proof of Irish sense ; 

Here Irish wit is seen ; 
When nothing's left that's worth defence 

They build a magazine. — Swift. 



GEORGE II. 

In most things I did as my father had done, 

I was false to my wife, and I hated my son : 

My spending was small, and my avarice much ; 

My kingdom was English, my heart was High Dutch : 

At Dettingen fight I was known not to blench ; 

I butcher'd the Scotch and I bearded the French ; 

I neither had morals, nor manners, nor wit ; 

I wasn't much miss'd when I died in a fit. 

Here set up my statue, and make it complete, 

With Pitt on his knees at my dirty old feet. — Thackeray 



epigrams old and new. 155 

war proclaimed at brentford 
Britain at length her wrath declares, 
And fierce to meet the foe prepares : 
Bellona mounts her iron car, 
Graced with the implements of war : 
Augusta sounds the dread alarm, 
And all our ports their galleys arm : 
Bristol and York have heralds sent, 
Denouncing George's dire intent; 
Nay, Brentford now proclaims defiance ; — 
Let Bourbon tremble at th' alliance ! 

ON THE YOUNG- PRETENDER'S LANDING IN SCOTLAND, — 

1745. 
Pretender in the Isle of Egg I 

Wiry then we must be watching : 
For, is it not too plain, I beg, 

Some mischief is a hatching. 
And mischief, if you let it hatch, 

Is difficult to quell — 
A faction therefore you should watch, 

And crush it in the shell. 



ON THE EARL OF MACCLESFIELD. 

When the seals were deliver'd to Macclesfield's charge, 

Each God for approving gave reasons at large : 

But Apollo excepted ; and said, so much wit, 

With such eloquence join'd, for that charge was unfit : 

Lest the injured, who at his tribunal appear'd, 

And put in their complaints, with intent to be heard ; 

Should feed on the honey, that dropp'd from his tongue, 

And charm'cl by his speaking, forget their own wrong : 

Minerva too added, ' His prudence is such, 

As not to indulge his own judgment too much. 

And whoe'er he consults, I plainly foresee, 

Must be some who knows less of the matter than he, 

Old authors, for instance — then men shall bemoan, 

That he such opinions prefers to his own.' 



156 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Jove heard ; and thus calmly deliver'd his thoughts : 
' No man is more guilty of these and such faults, 
Yet still I've one reason, for which he is given, 
To show men how justice is practised in- heaven.' 



ON THE CORONATION OF GEORGE THE THIRD, 

September 22, 1761. 

Three monarchs now, of Brunswick's honour'd race, 
Shall, with the same great name, our annals grace. 
The first, though view'd by party's envious eyes, 
Contending factions own, was — good and wise. 
Through a long reign, brave, mild, and just approved, 
Our second George we style e the ?vell-beloved, } 
But now a youth ascends the British throne , 
Whom every royal virtue calls her own ! 
Unenvied he his native right obtains, 
And in the heart of every Briton reigns. 
Proceed, young prince, a patriot king complete, 
And George the Third henceforth be George the Great. 



ON MR PITT'S RETURN TO HIS COUNTRY-SEAT, 

In October, 1761. 
Britannia long her hapless fate had mourn 'd, 
By factions rent at home, by Europe scorn'd : 
Successless wars her languid councils show ; 
Her troops still fly before th 5 insulting foe : 
No more her fleets triumphant rule the main, 
For aid whilst sick'ning commerce sues in vain. 

To guide her tott'ring bark, a pilot fit 
At length she seeks — and casts her eyes on Pitt. 
Pitt left his rural seat, and active rose, 
Retrieved her credit and subdued her foes : 
From pole to pole, on every hostile shore, 
Again her flag's display'd, her cannons roar ; 
The lakes of Canada our triumphs hear, 
And Afric's sons the name of Pitt revere. 
Nay more, he bids e'en civil discord cease, 
And sees each boisterous faction hush'd in peace ; 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 157 

Then quits the helm, without a title great, 
And seeks once more at Hayes a calm retreat. 
Great Chncinnatus thus, at Rome's request, 
Left his lone farm, and took th' imperial vest : 
With heaven-born zeal his patriot breast inspired ; 
Thus saved his country, triumph'd, and retired. 



OX THE EARL OF CHATHAM. 

Shall Chatham die and be forgot? Oh no ! — 
Warm from its source let grateful sorrow flow ; 
His matchless ardour fired each fear-struck mind. 
His genius soar'd when Britons droop'd and pined. 

Garrick, 



OX THE FRENCH ARMY (1760). 

The toast of each Briton in war's dread alarms, 
' O'er bottle or bowl, is ' Success to our arms? 
Attack'd, put to flight, and soon forced from each trench, 
' Success to our legs ' is the toast of the French. 



GEORGE III. 

Give me a royal niche — it is my due, 
The virtuousest king the realm e'er knew. 
I through a decent reputable life 
Was constant to plain food, and a plain wife. 
Ireland I risk'd, and lost America ; 
But dined on legs of mutton every day. 
My brain, perhaps, might be a feeble part, 
But yet I think I had an English heart. 
When all the kings were prostrate, I alone 
Stood face to face against Napoleon ; 
Nor ever could the ruthless Frenchman forge 
A fetter for old England and old George. 
I let loose flaming Nelson on his fleets ; 
I met his troops with Wellesley's bayonets. 
Triumphant waved my flag on land and sea : 
Where was the king in Europe like to me ? 
Monarchs exiled found shelter on my shores; 
My bounty rescued kings and emperors. 



158 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW, 

But what boots victory by land and sea ? 

What boots that kings found refuge at my knee ? 

I was a conqueror, but yet not proud ; 

And careless, even though Napoleon bow'd. 

My guns roar'd triumph, but I never heard ; 

Old England thrill'd with joy, I never stirr'd. 

What care had I of pomp, or fame, or power — 

A crazy old blind man in Windsor tower ? — Thackeray. 



ON GEORGE III. RESTORED TO HEALTH BY A VISIT TO 
WEYMOUTH. 

O Sovereign of an isle renown'd for undisputed sway, 
Where'er o'er yonder gulf profound her navies wing their 

way, 
On juster claims she builds at length her empire of the sea, 
And rightly deems those waves her strength, which strength 

restored to thee. — Cowper. 



reigning and raining. 
How monarchs reign is easily explain'd, 
For thus upon their tombs it might be chiselled : 
As long as George the Third could reign, he reign' d, 
And when no longer he could reign, he mizzled. 



ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S HOUSE, TO- 
GETHER WITH HIS MSS., BY THE MOB, IN 1780. 

When wit and genius meet their doom 

In all-devouring flame, 
They tell us of the fate of Eome, 

And bid us fear the same. 
O'er Murray's loss the Muses wept, 

They felt the rude alarm ; 
Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept 

His sacred head from harm. 
There memory, like the bee that's fed 

From Flora's balmy store, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND STEW. 159 

The quintessence of all he read 

Had treasured up before. 
The lawless herd, with fury blind, 

Have done him cruel wrong ; 
The flowers are gone, but still we find 

The honey on his tongue. 



OX HEARING IT OBSERVED THAT PITT HAD PROVED 
HIMSELF A BAD ARITHMETICIAN. 

For addition, Pitt's talents let ail men revere, 

Since he adds to our debt thirty millions a-year ; 

In subtraction his skill to suspect will be rash, 

Who contrives from the bank to subtract all the cash : 

And though feeble his efforts to multiply men, 

He can multiply taxes again and again. 

In division what mortal can say he wants nous ? 

Who so artfully works in dividing the house. 

Then, ye patriots, be still ! to your murmurs a truce ! 

What we were, what w r e are, think ! and spare your abuse, 

For w r e ail must agree that Will Pitt can reduce. 



on mr pitt s being pelted by the mob on lord 
mayor's day, 1787. 

The City feast inverted here we find, 
For Pitt had his dessert before he dined. 

BY HORACE Vv'ALPOLE, ON BECOMING EARL OF ORFORD. 

An estate and an earldom at seventy-four ; 

Had I sought them, or wish'd them, "'twould add one fear 

more, — 
That of making a countess, when almost fourscore : 
But Fortune, who scatters her gifts out of season, 
Though unkind to my limbs, has still left me my reason ; 
And, whether she lowers or lifts me, I'll try, 
In the plain simple style I have lived in, to die ; 
For ambition too humble, for meanness too high. 



160 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



ON NAPOLEON I. 



I. 

Says Old Nick to his crony, old Emperor Nero, 

As together they sat in a sulphury bovver, 
' I'm resolved now to finish my Corsican hero, 

By crowning his wishes with absolute power/ 
Says Nero, ' Great King of Hell's gloomy dominion, 

Ponder well what your Majesty's going to do ; 
His ambition's so boundless, that 'tis my opinion 

He never will rest till he overturns you.' 

II. 

When Emperor Nap. to France return'cl, 

He much admired his boy ; 
The nurse, whose anxious bosom burn'd 

To increase the father's joy, 
' How much he talks ! ' ' How much he's grown ! ' 

Would every moment cry, 
' Besides, he's learn'd to run alone ; ' 

Says Boney, ' So have I ! ' 



ON HEARING THAT HIS SPURS HAD BEEN FOUND IN 
THE IMPERIAL CARRIAGE AFTER WATERLOO. 

These Napoleon left behind, 
Flying swifter than the wind ; 
Needless to him when buckled on, 
Wanting, no spur but Wellington. 

Lord Ershlne 

IY. 

i A NEW Achilles, I,' spake Gaul's stern chief, 

Nor spake a lie — albeit he was a thief : 
For like Achilles, to the untimely grave 

Hosts had he hurl'd, the bravest of the brave ; 
Insate of wrath, stiffneck'd, implacable, 

Wrecker of towns ; — and fleet of foot as well : 
So like was he in much ; yet not in all ; — 

The heel that slew the Greek has saved the Gaul. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 161 



Of all hard-named generals that caused much distraction, 
And poor Boney's hopes so ill-naturedly cross 5 d, 

The hardest of all, and the keenest in action, 
That Eussia produces, is General Frost. 

VI. 

Says Boney to Johnny, l I'm coming to Dover ; ' 
Says Johnny to Boney, ' You're better at home : ' 
Says Boney to Johnny, ' I mean to come over ; ' 
Says Johnny to Boney, ' You'll be overcome.' 



BRITISH PLUCK. 

Sure England, single-handed, still may hope 
With all the hosts of boasting France to cope : 
Since single-handed Nelson on the main, 
Could crush the fleets combined of France and Spain. 

OX THE EARL OF CHATPIAM AND SIR RICHARD STRAHAN, 

Leaders of the unfortunate Walclieren Expedition. 
The Earl of Chatham with his sword drawn, 

Was waiting for Sir Richard Strahan ; 
Sir Richard, burning to be at 'em, 

Was waiting for the Earl. of Chatham. 



ON THE MAID OF SARAGOSSA. 
* * * * 

It is for this the Spanish maid aroused, 

Hangs on the willows her unstrung guitar, 
And, all unsexed, the anlace hath espoused, 

Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war? 

And she, whom once the semblance of a scar 
Appall'd, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread, 

Now views the column-scattering bayonet jar, 
The falchion flash ; and o'er the yet warm dead, 
Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to 
tread. — Byron. 

11 



162 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

WELLINGTON AND THE MINISTERS, 1813. 

So gentle in peace Alcibiades smiled, 

While in battle he shone forth so terribly grand, 

That the emblem they graved on his seal was a child 

• With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand. 

Oh, Wellington ! long as such ministers wield 
Your magnificent arm, the same emblem will do ; 

For, while they're in the council and you in the field. 
We've the babies in them, and the thunder in yov. 

Moore. 



THE CONGRESS AT VIENNA. 
In cutting, and dealing, and playing their cards, 
Eevoking and shuffling for tricks and rewards, 
The kings have been changed into knaves, and the rest 
Of the honours have either been lost or suppress'd. 

THE INQUISITION RE-ESTABLISHED IN SPAIN IN 1815. 

To Spain, entranced in golden dreams, 
Fair freedom comes ; and tempting seems 

The heav'nly apparition : 
But ah ! when, waking, Spain essay'd 
To hold the all-enchanting maid, 

She clasp'd the — Inquisition. 



ON THE LATE WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ., M.P. 

Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, 

Hears thee by cruel men and impious call'd 

Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthrall'd 

From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain. 

Friend of the poor, the wrong' d, the fetter-gal I'd, 

Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain. 

Thou hast achieved a part ; hast gain'd the ear 

Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause : 

Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause 

And weave delay, the better hour is near 

That shall remunerate thy toils severe 

By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 163 

Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love 
From all the just on earth, and all the blest above. 

Cowper. 



ON THE DEATH OF QUEEN CHARLOTTE. 

The death of the queen has caused great perturbation ; 
We must mourn by. command, throughout the whole 

nation ; 
The theatres closed, the poor actors, forlorn, 
Must starve : other subjects can eat while they mourn. 
What follows is plain ; — 'tis believed in all corners 
The mourners are actors, the actors are mourners. 

C. Mathews. 



PITT AND FOX. 

On folly every fool his talent tries ; 

It asks some toil to imitate the wise : 

Though few like Fox can speak — like Pitt can think 

Yet all like Fox can game — like Pitt can drink. 

Drop upon Fox's grave a tear, 
'Twill trickle to his rival's bier ; 
O'er Pitt's the solemn requiem sound, 
From Fox's shall the notes rebound. 



ON THE WHIG ASSOCIATES OF THE PRINCE-REGENT NOT 
OBTAINING OFFICE. 

Ye politicians, tell me, "pray, 

Why thus with woe and care rent ? 
This is the worst that you can say : 
' Some wind has blown the wig away, 
And left the Hair Apparent.'' — Charles Lamb. 



ON THE LATE PRINCE-REGENT STANDING BETWEEN Till 
COFFINS OF HENRY VIII. AND CHARLES I. 

Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, 
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies ; 



164 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Between them stands another sceptred thing, 

It moves, it reigns — in all but name a king. 

Charles to his people, Henry to his wife, 

In him the double tyrant starts to life: 

Justice and death have mix'd their dust in vain, 

Each royal vampire wakes to life again. 

Ah ! what can tombs avail, since these disgorge 

The blood and dust of both to mould a George ? 



THE TEIAL OF QUEEN CAROLINE. 

On hearing it asserted that she had not received 

a fair trial. 
'Tis false: — the trial of the Queen was fair, 

Therefore, another time pray change your story ; 
Of Law and Justice she has had her share, 

For everything brought forward was Per- JURY. 



QUEEN CAROLINE'S TRIAL. 

[The examination of witnesses began amidst thunder and lightning 
and ended at the moment of an eclipse.] 

When Giiford commenced his attack on the Queen, 
Loud rattled the thunder, red lightnings were seen ; 
When Copley summ'd up all he proved had been done, 
'Twas almost a total eclipse of the sun : 
In the whole of the case we may clearly remark, 
Accusation in thunder and proof in the dark. 



PRINCE GORTSCHAKOFF'S DESPATCH. 

Though Victory refused our arms to bless, 
We ran away with wonderful success. 



THE DEFENCE OF GAETA. 



Gaeta's defenders, 'twould seem, have a turn 
For the tailoring craft ; for from Reuter we learn 
That, as soon as the news of an arm'stice them reaches, 
They all set to work, sirs, repairing their breaches. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 165 



THE INSURRECTION IN POLAND. 

'Twas the Bussian's conscription, the papers declare, 
Made the nation fling off his control ; 

So it is not the pole that has stirr'd up the bear, 
But the bear who has stirr'd up the Pole. — Fun. 



ON GARIBALDI. 

When Garibaldi ceased his high command, 

And sheath' d his sword — that sword a bright and keen 
one — 
Nought in his pocket put he but his hand, 

A mighty hand — and nobler still, a clean one. 



THE MATCHLESS BUDGET OF 1871. 

Quoth Lucifer Lowe, 

Ex luce I'll show" 
iAicellum — light profit crescendo ; 

But, alas ! not a spark 

Has illumined the dark 
Of his lucus a non lucendo. 



THE FRENCH, 1871. 

The cock of glory is the cock Francais, 
Demoralized he is not by defeat : 

He crows right loudly when he wins the day, 
And loudly yet when he is soundly beat. 



BOOK XV. 



POLITICAL EPIGRAMS. 

AN APT COMPARISON. 

The snake, tradition's tale avers, 

Casts once a-year his speckled skin ; 

Yet no improvement change infers — 
'Tis still the self-same snake within. 

Too like the supple courtier's trim, 

Who turns and twists, occasion's slave '; 

'Tis change of sides, not change of him ! 
New knavery — but the same old knave ! 



A REPRESENTATIVE. 

To represent is hut to personate, 
Which should be truly done at any rate. 
Thus they who 're fairly chose without a fee 
Should give their votes, no doubt, with liberty 
But when a seat is sold by the venal tribe, 
He represents them best — who takes a bribe. 



REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN. 

Should women sit in parliament, 

A thing unprecedented, 
A great part of the nation then 

Would be Miss-Represented. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 167 

WHIG GOVERNMENT. 

* The Queen is with us,' Whigs exulting say, 
1 For when she found us in she let us stay. 3 
It may be so ; but give me leave to doubt, 
How long she'll keep you when she finds you out. 



PROXIES. 

' By proxy I pray, and by proxy I vote,' 
A graceless peer said to a churchman of note ; 
Who answer' d, ' My lord, then Fll venture to say, 
You'll to heaven ascend in a similar way.' 



THE JACOBIN'S EVASION. 

When Tom had seditiously dared to exclaim, 

That in England we wanted no king, 
And was brought to the justice for uttering the same, 

He contrived his accusers to fling. 

i Please your worship,' said Tom, ' that I said do I grant, 

And in what I've affirm'd I'll be steady ; 
For Englishmen surely no monarch can want, 
That have such a good one already. 5 



MOBS AND NOBS. 

As the late Traded Unions by way of a show, 
Over Westminster Bridge strutted five in a row, 
* I feel for the bridge,' whispered Dick in a shiver ; 
1 Thus tried by the mob it may sink in the river.' 
Quoth Tom, a crown lawyer, ' Abandon your fears, 
As a bridge it can only be tried by its piers.' 



trades' unionists. 
What is a Unionist ? one who has yearnings 
For an equal division of unequal earnings ; 
Idler or bungler or both, he is willing 
To fork out his penny and pocket your shilling. 

Eb. Elliot, the Corn-Law Rhymer, 



168 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE LEGION OF HONOUR. 

Addressed to M. de Caze, on a certain nomination to the 
Legion of Honour. 
Dans les terns affreux <T autrefois 
On mettait sans pitie les voleurs sur la croix ; 
Grace au changement de nos moeurs, 
C'est la croix aujourd'hui qu'on met sur les voleurs. 



A DEMOCRAT. 

Tomkins will clear the land, they say, 
From every foul abuse ; 
So chimneys in the olden time 
Were cleansed by a goose. — Hannay. 



ON MR GULLY TILE PUGILIST, M.P. FOR PONTEFRACT. 

Strange is it, proud Pontef ract's borough should sully 

Its fame by returning to Parliament, Gully. 

The etymological cause, I suppose, is, 

His breaking the bridges of so many noses. 

Horace Smith. 



TREASON. 

Treason does never prosper ; what's the reason? 
For if it prosper, none dare call it treason. 

Harrington. 



PARLIAMENT. 



1 This long word comes only ivomparler, to speak, 

As best etymologists trace ; 
So you see all is pavle, and nothing is meant ; 

Too often the truth of the case.' 



ON GENERAL CASS, 

Who was accused of being a Toady to Southern politicians^ 

though himself a Northern man. 
6 Gen'nle CASS, sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar, 
Your merit's quite clear by the durt on your knees, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 169 

At the North we don't make no distinctions o' color ; 
You can all take a lick at our shoes wen you please/ 

Avthor of Biglow Papers. 



ON A RECREANT WHIG POLITICIAN. 

Whoever 'd ha' thought sech a pisonous rig 

Would be run by a chap thet wuz chose fer a Wig ? 

* We knowed wut his principles wuz 'fore we sent him ' 1 

Wut wuz ther in them from this vote to pervent him ? 

A marciful Providunce fashioned us holler 

0' purpose thet we might our principles swaller ; 

It can hold any quantity on 'em, his belly can, . 

An' bring 'em up ready fer use like the pelican, 

Or more like the kangaroo, who (wich is stranger) 

Puts her family into her pouch wen there's danger. 

Author of Biglow Papers. 

THE addkess of the political CANDIDATE ANXIOUS 
TO PLEASE ALL SIDES. 

I'M a straight-spoken kind o' creetur 
Thet blurts right out wut's in his head, 

An' ef I've one pecooler feetur, 
It is a nose thet wunt be led. 

Ez fer the war, I go agin it, — 

I mean to say I kind o' du, — 
Thet is, I mean thet, bein' in it, 

The best way wuz to light it thru ; 
Not but wut abstract war is horrid, 

I sign to thet with all my heart, — 
But civlyzation doos git forrid 

Sometimes upon a powder-cart. 
Ez to the slaves, there's no confusion 

In my idees consarnin' them, — 
I think the)*- are an Institution, 

A sort of — yes, jest so, — ahem : 
Do 1 own any ? Of my merit 

On thet pint you yourself may jedge ; 
All is, I never drink no sperit, 

Nor I hain't never sign'd no pledge. 



170 EPIGRAMS OLD A3D NEW. 

Ez to my principles, I glory 

In hevin' nothin' o' the sort ; 
I ain't a Wig, I ain't a Tory, 

I'm jest a candidate, in short. 

Author of Biglow Papers. 



ON THE BOASTERS WHO DECLARE THAT IT IS THE 
MANIFEST DESTINY OF THE UNITED STATES TO TAKE 
THE WHOLE CONTINENT. 

Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies ; 

Sez they're nothin' on airth but jest fee-faw-fum ; 
An' thet all this big talk of our destinies 

Is half on it ignorance, an' t' other half rum. 

Biglow Papers. 



The following are taken from the re-issue of Punch,* as 
specimens of 't he modem political epigram. 

DANIEL O'CONNELL LOQUITUR. 

Sir Edward says I want to raise a riot, 
And yet I always bid the boys be quiet ; 
Or if that word is sometimes not detected, 
At least I always bid them be collected. 

Again. 
My counbymen, that they may pay the rent, 
To live upon potatoes are content. 
And I resort to vegetable means ; 
For when I feed on them I live on Greens. 

THE DOINGS OF JOINVILLE. 

He that bombards and runs away 
Will live to bombard another Bay, 
But he that is in battle slain 
Will never bombard no Moor again. 



LORD BROUGHAM. 
When Henry Brougham turns a Tory, 
Too late convinced that Whigs betray, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 171 

What can revive his tarnish'd glory, 
What his desertion best repay ? 

The only robe his shame to cover, 

To hide the brand upon his back, 
And best reward this faithless lover, 

That Peel can give him is — the sacli. 



ON CERTAIN EDITORS FANNING WAR BUT NOT 
VOLUNTEERING TO FIGHT. 

Take them editors that's crow in' 
Like a cockerel three months old, — 

Don't ketch any on 5 em goin', 
Though they be so blasted bold ; 

Ain't they a prime set o' fellers ? 

'Fore they think on't they will sprout 
(Like a peach thet's got the yellers) 

With the meanness bustin' out. 



ON AN M.P. WHO GAINED HIS SEAT BY THE LOSS OF 
HIS POLITICAL CHARACTER. 

His degradation is complete, 

His name with loss of honour branding ; 

When he resolved to win his seat, 
He literally lost his standing. 



THE ANTI-CORN-LAW BILL. 

No wonder Tory landlords flout 

Fix'd duty, for 'tis plain 
With them the An ti- Corn-Law Bill 

Must go against the grain. 



FEEL'S TARIFF, 1845 — DUTY TAKEN OFF TEETH. 

Three hundred articles and odd 
Peel's tariff will release from duty, 

And Commerce lifts her drooping head 
To contemplate the offer'd booty. 



172 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

1 Fool ! ' exclaims Commerce full of scorn, 
' Teeth are in your financial fiction ; 

Grant me instead free trade in corn, 
And deal no more in contradiction.' 

' Reverse your plan,' the goddess said, 
And, smiling, stood in all her beauty ; 

' Give me untax' d my daily bread, 
And tax my teeth with double duty.' 



THE PEEL MINISTRY DEFEATED ON AN IRISH 
COERCION BILL. 

'Tis said that Peel, 

The State to heal, 
Without the least aversion 

Resign'd his place : 

'Tis not the case, — 
He went out on Coercion. 



ON LORD GEORGE BENTINCK [A RACING POLITICIAN]. 

Let Lyndhurst chide till tired and hoarse, 
True sportsmen love Lord George's prate ; 

His speech recalls the ' four mile course ! ' 
His arguments the 'feather-weight.' 



ON DR REID, 

Who was allmved to ventilate the New Houses of Par- 
liament by alternate Masts of hot and cold air. 
Peel's patronage of Dr Reid 
Is very natural indeed, 

For no one need be told 
The worthy scientific man 
Is acting on the Premier's plan, 
Of blowing hot and cold. 

RECIPROCITY. 

The oddest of all oddities 

Would Jonathan be — what? 
Why, if the sole commodities 

We entertain'd, were shot. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 173 



ON LEDRU ROLLIN'S WORDS : 

Je monte sur le Calvaire pour sauver la Hepublique. 
We read, Ledru, that there were three 
Who perish'd upon Calvary ; 
The One, — but stay, that name Divine 
Thou would'st not couple sure with thine, — 
And convict knaves the other two — 
Blasphemer, which of these are you ? 

THE POLITICAL BAROMETER. 

The Whigs by their Budget were only inclined 
To hit on a project for raising the wind ; 
But they little expected by rapid degrees 
The wind would be raised to a regular breeze. 
And had they persisted, we venture to say, 
A storm was approaching to sweep them away. 



THE FUTURE OF FRANCE. 

France etant si ma-lade, je n'ose pas dire 
Qu'elle peut s'empirer meme dans un empire 
Maltraitee par ses docteurs politiques, 
Elle cherche au desespoir les empiriques. 



VOTERS AND BLOATERS. 

Why are St Alban's voters 

Like unto Yarmouth Bloaters ? 
Because both are for sale ; and the nation 

Will pronounce that the Bloaters, 

As much as the Voters, 
Are worthy of representation. 

THE PREMIER'S WARNING. 

Oh Darby ! — for so 

Thy name, says the Post, 

To pronounce is ' the go ' 
With all nobs, or most ; 



174 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW, 

Take heed what you do ; 

Leave Protection alone, 
Or Britannia and you 

Won't be Darby and Joan. 



THE NEWLY-ELECTED M.P. 

I'M a Member ! I'm a Member ! 

But the time will soon pass by; 
They'll unseat me in December 

For my treating in July. 
All my buying, all my buying 

Has turn'd out a perfect sell : 
And in wishing for admission 

I have been took in as well. 



FACILIS DESCENSUS. 

Quoth a Quidnunc to Derby, ' How comes it, I wonder, 
That the party of which you're the chief 

No sooner wins office than ill-luck or blunder 
The first Session brings you to grief ? ' 

' My good fellow,' said Derby, ' 'tis no use to busy 
Your brain with more reasons than one ; 

Yv r hen we've climbed to the top of the tree we get Dizzy, 
And of course we come down by the run.' 



THE IEISH CATHOLICS GAVE A SWORD TO LAMORICIkRE. 

He wants a new blade, for the old one has flown, 
So give him the sword, disregarding the scoff, 

Which hints that whenever he puts the steel on 

He'll remember his Paddies were prompt to steal off. 



PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. 

Our fathers fought to publish the debates, 

And thought in that to gain a bit of freedom ; 

But now their sons have lost it to the states 
By making them a deal too long to read 'em. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 175 



THE ANNEXATION OF SAYOY. 



When lickspittles would praise 

The Emperor of France, 
To immense mvoir fa ire 

His claim they advance. 
Xow that ground of applause 

Should be changed by a letter ; 
Since Savoy has been done, 

Savoie fa ire would read better. 



BOOK XVI. 

MISCELLANEOUS EPIGRAMS. 

PART I.— SATIRICAL. 

ON A WINE-MERCHANT. 

From Martial. 
The vilest of compounds while Balderdash vends, 
And brews his dear poison for all his good friends ; 
No wonder they never can get him to dine — 
He's afraid they'd oblige him to drink his own wine. 



LE PHILOSOrHE BON-VIVANT. 

My wealthy master now resolved to seek 

Instruction late in life, and learn to speak ; 

And, that in logic rules he might excel, 

He fee'd a learned doctor who lived well. 

Here, at a vast expense, as suits his rank, 

He drank, and eat, and spoke, and eat, and drank ; 

And, after years of study, boasts to know 

The best receipt to make Sbfricandeau. 



ASTROLOGERS. 

The astrologers did all alike presage 
My uncle's dying in extreme old age : 
One only disagreed : but he was wise, 
And spoke not till he heard the funeral cries. 

S. Bishoj). 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 177 

IRISH WIT. 

A Pat, an odd joker, and Yankee, more sly, 

Once riding together, a gallows pass'd by. 

Said the Yankee to Pat, ' If I don't make too free, 

Give, the gallows its due, and pray where would you be ? ' 

* Why, honey,' says Pat, i faith, that's easily known, — 

I'd be riding to town by myself all alone.' 



THE NABOB. 

[Sir Thomas Eumbold, originally a shoeblack at Arthur's Club, 
where the head- waiter was iiobert MacGrath, rose to be governor 
of Madras.] 

When MacGrath reign'd o'er Arthur's crew 
He said to Eumbold, ' Black my shoe.' 

And Eumbold answer' d, ' Ya-Bob.' 
But now return'd from India's land, 
He proudly scorns the base command, 

And boldly answers, ' Nabob.' — Fox (?) 



ON COUNT ZENOBIO, BEMABKABLE FOE A LAEGE NOSE. 

Walking- out the other day, 

Upon a certain plan, 
I met a no3e upon the way ; 

Behind it was a man. 
I call'd upon the nose to stop, 

And, when it had done so, 
The man behind the nose came up : 

They made — Zenobio. — Tom Paine. 



THE SUITLESS SUITOE. 

Lucas, with ragged coat, attends 
My Lord's levee ; and, as he bends, 
The gaping wounds expose to view 
All else beneath as ragged too. 
But hark the peer : ' My friends, to-day 
By great affairs I'm call'd away ; 
Attend to-morrow at this hour, 
Your suits shall claim my utmost power.' 
12 



178 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

The crowd, retiring, thanks exprest, 
Save Lucas, who, behind the rest 
Desponding loiter'd : Cries my Lord, 
' Why, Lucas, do you doubt my word ? ' 
' No, sir, 'tis too well understood — 
To-morrow ! ' — Here his garb he view'd 
' Alas ! my Lord, can I be mute ? 
To-morrow I shall have no suit.' 



TO MAKE A GUINEA. 

As Quin and Foote one day walk'd out, 

To view the country round, 
In merry mood they chatting stood 

Hard by the village pound. 
Foote from his purse a shilling took, 

And said, ' 111 bet a penny, 
In a short space, within this place, 

I'll make this piece a guinea.' 
Upon the ground, within the pound, 

The shilling soon was thrown ; 
'Behold,' said Foote, 'the thing's made out, 

For there is one pound one.' 
i I wonder not,' says Quin, e that thought 

Should in your head be found, 
Since that's the way your debts you pay — 

One shilling in the pound.' 



A RIVER ABEIDGED. 

On a Fellow of a College who pronounced the a short in 

Euphrates. 

Yenit ad Euphratum, rapidis perterritus undis, 

Ut citd transiret, corripuit fluvium.— Porson, 

Translated. 
With fear, on the Euphrates' shore, 
The wild waves made him shiver ; 
But he thought to pass more quickly o'er, 
And so abridged the river. 

J. T. P., in 'Notes and Queries," July, 1801. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 179 

THE FAIR SEX. 

When Eve brought wo to all mankind, 

Old Adam call'd her wo-man : 
But when she woo'd with love so kind, 

He then pronounced her woo-man. 

But now with folty, and with pride, 

Their husbands keenly trimming, 
The ladies are so full of whims, 

The people call them whim-men* 



BISHOP BLOMFIELD S FIRST CHARGE TO HIS CLERGY. 

Hunt not, fish not, shoot not, 

Dance not, fiddle not, flute not ; 
Be sure ye have nothing to do with the Whigs, 
But stay at home and feed your pigs ; 
And above all I make it my special desire, 
That at least once a week you dine with the Squire. 

Sidney Smith. 



ASSISTANCE. 

Curio, whose hat a nimble knave had snatch 'd, 
Fat, clumsy, gouty, asthmatic, and old, 

Panting against a post, his noddle scratch'd, 
And his sad story to a stranger told. 

' Follow the thief,' replied the stander-by ; 

' Ah, sir, 1 said he, * these feet will wag no more.' 
' Alarm the neighbourhood with hue-and-cry : ' 

' Alas ! I've roar'd as long as lungs could roar/ 

' Then,' quoth the stranger, ' vain is all endeavour, 
Sans voice to call, sans vigour to pursue : 

And since your hat, of course, is gone for ever, 
I'll e'en make bold to take your wig — adieu.' 



180 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



BEARDING A COLONEL. 

A Parody. 

[Epigram on Colonels Sibthorp, Percival, and Verner, of whom the 
first was remarkable for the vastness of his beard, while the two 
others were not so.] 

Three colonels, in three distant counties born, 

Lincoln, Armagh, and Sligo did adorn. 

The first in matchless impudence surpass' d, 

The next in bigotry — in both the last. 

The force of nature could no further go — 

To beard the first she shaved the other two. 

0' Council. 



TRADING ON A SMALL CAPITAL. 

Pamphlet last week, in his fantastic fits, 

Was ask'd, how he lived 1 He answer'd, by his wits : 

Pamphlet, I see, will tell lies by the clock ; 

How can he live upon so poor a stock ? 



ON SOME VERSES CALLED TRIFLES. 

PAUL, I have read your book, and, though you write ill, 
I needs must praise your most judicious title. 



THE CLOWN'S REPLY. 

John Trott was desired by two witty peers, 

To tell them the reason why asses had ears. 

' An't please you,' quoth John, ' I'm not given to letters, 

Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters ; 

Howe'er, from this time, I shall ne'er see your graces, 

I really believe, without thinking of asses/ — Goldsmith. 



BY A LADY, 

On hearing a Gentleman say he would never 
dance with a Plain Woman. 

Young Damon vows, nay, hear him swear, 
He'll ' dance with none but what are fair : ' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 181 

Suppose we girls a law dispense, 

To dance with none but men of sense. 

■ Suppose you should — pray, ma'am, what then ? ' 

Why, sir, you'd never dance again. 



BREWERS. 

The only fair traders in London that are 
Are those that brew beer for the table ; 

They tell us they'll give us small beer for our fare, 
And they brew it as small as they're able. 



From the French, 
My debtor Paul looks pale and harass' d ; 

Thinks he on means to pay his bill ? 
Oh no ; he only is embarrassed 

For means to be my debtor still. 



THE whereabouts of paradise. 

He knew the seat of Paradise, 
Could tell in what degree it lies ; 
And, as he was disposed, could prove it 
Below the moon, or else above it. — S. Butler. 



TIT FOR TAT. 

Says the squire to the parson, ' If you were to lie 
In this dish, we could make a substantial goose-pie.' 1 
Quoth the parson, if you in your grave were extended, 
(Which I hope won't take place till your morals 

mended,) 
And I read the prayers, by a much better rule, 
The parish might call me a goose-bury fool.' 



CARVTXG AXD GILDING. 

c You see,' said our host, as we enter'd his doors, 
'I have furnish'd my house a la Louis Quatorze.' 
1 Then I wish/ said a guest, ( when you ask us to eat 
You would furnish your board a la Louis Dix-huit. 



182 EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. 

The eye cannot feast when the stomach is starving ; 
Pray, less of your gilding, and more of your carving.' 



CUPBOARD LOVE. 

Frank carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats ; 
He eats more than six, and drinks more than he eats. 
Four pipes after dinner he constantly smokes, 
And seasons' his wit with impertinent jokes. 
Yet, sighing, he says we must certainly break ; 
And my cruel unkindness compels him to speak, 
For of late I invite him but four times a-week. 



A COUET AUDIENCE. 

Old South, a witty churchman reckon'd, 
Was preaching once to Charles the Second ; 
But, much too serious for a court 
Who at all preaching made a sport, 
He soon perceived his audience nod, 
Deaf to the zealous man of God ; 
The doctor stopp'd, began to call, 
' Pray wake the Earl of Lauderdale ; 
My lord, why 'tis a monstrous thing, 
You snore so loud, you'll wake the king ! ' 



A SLEEPING WATCHMAN. 

Sound sleeps yon guardian of the night, 

The hours uncall'd — youth's rest not sweeter : 

*■ I thought he was a watch.' — ' You're right — 
He's a stop-watch, not a repeater? 

COUEAGE MISPLACED. 

As Thomas was cudgell'd one day by his wife, 

He took to the street, and fled for his life ; 

Tom's three nearest friends came by in the squabble, 

And saved him at once from the shrew and the rabble ; 

Then ventured to give him some sober advice. 

But Tom is a person of honour so nice, 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 183 

Too wise to take counsel, too proud to take warning, 
That he sent all the trio a challenge next morning. 
Three duels he fought, and thrice ventured Iris life, 
Went home, and was cudgelled again by his wife. — Swift. 



ON SEEING THE NAME ' GEORGE REX* IN THE LIST OF 
BANKRUPTS, OF THE 9TH OF JUNE, 1821. 

Some wiseacres sadly their noddles perplex, 

To find that a bankrupt they'd make of George Rex ; 

Some declare * 'tis a hoax,' whilst some, stanch and loyal, 

Pronounce it ' a libel ' upon the blood ro} r al ; 

Many think it ' a blunder ' — some say ' no such thing,' 

And swear ' a commission won't stand 'gainst the King ; ' 

The King is no subject, and all ought to know, 

He cares not a fig for John Doe or Dick Roe ; 

Though he mayn't have a stiver -in purse or in pocket, 

They can't 'gainst George Rex issue process or docket. 



ON SEEING THE NAME 'RICHES' IN THE SAME LIST, OF 
FEBRUARY 28TH, 1826. 

Long have I grieved for dismal times, 

And scarce could make my 'customed rhymes, 

So sorely was I fretted : 
Eiches are scarce, we've long been told ; 
But now a wonder we behold, 

For Miches is gazetted ! 



GENEROUS OFFER TO A TAILOR. 
From Burdon. 
Robin ! known throughout the land 
As richest of the tailor band, 
And credit prompt to give to all 
The dashing bucks that on thee call ; 
If thou wilt lend thy generous aid, 
Nor ask with coin to be repaid, 
Then shall my verse a deathless fame 
On thee bestow ! Thy honour'd name 
Emblazon'd in my books shall shine, 
If thou wilt blot my name from thine. 



184 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 

THE IRISHMAN'S RECKONING. 

' Who lives there, honest fellow?' said a travelling 
stranger, 
As on through the county of Antrim he sped, 
And who fancied that houses shut up implied danger : — 
'Lives there? 5 answer'd Teague, ' why, a man that is 
dead.' 
' When did he die? ' cried the stranger more gaily ; 

Teague paused, scratch'd his caxon so straight and so 
sleek, 
Then replied, ' By my conscience, my jewel, whj'- really, 
If he'd lived till to-day, he'd been dead a whole week ! ' 



ON A CERTAIN LORD GIVING A LARGE SUM 
FOR A HOUSE. 

So many thousands for a house ; 
For you, of all the world, Lord Mouse ! 
A little house would best accord 
With you, my very little Lord ! 
And then exactly match'd would be 
Your house and hospitality. 



A MERRY MAN. 



' I LAUGH,' a would-be sapient cried, 
' At every one who laughs at me.' 

' Good lack/ a merry friend replied, 
' How very merry you must be ! ' 



ON YORKSHIRE THRIFT. 

* A Yorkshire man I and ostler still ! 

Ere this you might have been, 

Had you employ'd your native skill, 

Landlord, and kept the inn.' 

i Ah, sir ! ' quoth John, ' here 'twill ne'er do, 

For, dang it ! meyster's Yorkshire too ! ' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 1S3 

ON A CARICATURE OF THREE WESTMINSTER BOYS OUT- 
WEIGHING AN EQUAL NUMBER OF ETONIANS. 

What mean ye, by this print so rare, 

Ye wits, of Eton jealous, 
But that we soar aloft in air, 

While ye are heavy fellows ? — Canning. 



REPLY. 

Cease, ye Etonians ! and no more 

With rival wits contend ; 
Feathers, we know, will float in air, 

And bubbles will ascend. — Theodore Ilooh. 



VERSES STUCK ON THE STATUE OF A MOOR SUPPORT- 
ING A SUN-DIAL, IN ONE OF THE INNS OF COURT. 

In vain, poor sable son of woe, 

Thou seek'st the tender tear ; 
From thee, in vain, with pangs they flow, 

For mercy dwells not here. 
From cannibals thou fled'st in vain ; 

Lawyers less quarter give ; 
The first won't eat you ere you're slain, 

The last will do't alive. 



.TO CERTAIN FASHIONABLES. 

You who, on coach-box mounted, whirl along 
With four in hand, and smack the sounding thong ; 
Who think to drive is wit, and sense, and grace ; 
What shall we call you ? in what station place 1 
You're not, 'tis plain, true gentlemen, for those 
Who bear that name to mean pursuits are foes : 
You're not good coachmen, for each whip that passes 
Views with a sneer, and calls you clumsy asses. 



ON TWO CONTRACTORS FOR RUM AND GRAIN. 

To rob the public two contractors come ; 
One cheats in Corn, the other cheats in Kuin ; 
Which is the greater, if you can, explain, 
A rogue in spirits, or a rogue in grain? 



186 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

SENTIMENTAL CHARITY. 

Such fine-spun pain does want excite, 
When beggars near Penuria stray ; 

From fear of fainting at the sight 
She turns her head another way. 

Her generous notions partial call 
The hand that grants a penny ; 

So, as she cannot give to all, 
She never gives to any. 



THE MARQUIS DE ST JUST. 

From M. Borde. 
A CERTAIN statesman, found to have the stone, 

Was doom'd to undergo an operation ; 
Amongst his friends the fact, becoming known, 

Occasional much remark and conversation. 
' Plow came he by this ailment ? ' some one cried : 

' I scarce know anything that could be sadder.' 
' The explanation's clear/ a wit replied, 

' His heart has just slipp'd down into his bladder ! ' 

Lord Weaves 



TO A FOOL GOING TO TRAVEL. 

You say you'll spend a thousand pound 
The world and men to know, 

And take a tour all Europe round, 
Improving as you go. 

Dear Jack, in search of others' sense, 

Discover not your own ; 
But wisely double the expense, 

That you may pass unknown. 



SEVEN DAYS' WORK. 

Tom Goodfellow came to his fortune on Sunday, 
And friends came to see him in dozens on Monday ! 
On Tuesday were with him to dinner and sup ; 
On Wednesday in honour of Tom kept it up ! 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. IS 7 

On Thursday his friends set the dice-box afloat ! 

On Friday, by some mean?, Tom lost his last guinea, 

And Saturday — Saturday — saw an end of the ninny. 



AN EXPENSIVE DINNER. 

To sit a guest at Timon's sumptuous board, 
You praise each foible, e'en forget his vice : 

Integrity's my boast — I can't afford 
To buy a dinner at so dear a price. 



'AS POOS AS A SCOTCH LORD.' 

That bootless host of high-born beggars, 
Macleans, Mackenzies, and Macgregors. 

NO CHARACTER TO SPARE. 

Says Chloe, * Though tears it may cost, 
It is time we should part, my dear Sue ; 

For your character's totally lost, 

And I've not got sufficient for two ! ' 



PRACTICE AND PREACHING. 

A parson, of too free a life, 

Was yet renown'd for noble preaching, 
And many grieved to see such strife 

Between his living and his teaching. 
His flock at last rebellious grew : 

' My friends,' he said, ' the simple fact is, 
Nor you nor I can both things do ; — 

But I can preach — and you can practise.' 

PIUS JENEAS. 

Virgil, whose magic verse enthrals, — 
And who in verse is greater ? — 

By turns his wandering hero calls, 
Nowjnws and now pater . 

But when prepared the worst to brave — 
An action that must pain us — 



188 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Queen Dido meets him in the cave, 
He dubs him Dux Trojanus. 

And well he changes thus the word, 
On that occasion sure ; 

Pius iENEAS were absurd, 
And pater premature! 



MONEY COMMANDS ELOQUENCE. 

We grease the axle that it may not creak ; 

We grease the lawyer's palm to make him speak. 

Lord Reaves. 



OSTENTATION. 

Possess'd of one great hall for state, 
Without one room to sleep or eat ; 
How well you build, let flattery tell, 
And all mankind, how ill you dwell. 



ON A CERTAIN POET. 

Pride is his pity, artifice his praise, 
A mask his virtue, and his fame a blaze ; 
Insult his charity, his friendship fear, 
And nothing, but his vanity, sincere. 



DIALOGUE 

Between Harry, who had a better Library than Under- 
standing, and Dieh, who had a better Understanding 
than Library. 

Quoth Harry to his friend, one day, 

1 Would, Richard, I'd thy head ! ' 
* What wilt thou give for't? ' Dick replied, 

6 The bargain's quickly made.' 
' My head, and all my books, I'd give, 

With readiness and freedom : ' 
' I'd take thy books ; but with thy head 

' I fear I ne'er could read 'em.' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 189 

ON A SQUABBLE BETWEEN MRS HONEY, THE ACTRESS, 
AND HER HUSBAND. 

This pair in matrimony, 

Go most unequal snacks ; 
He gets all the Honey, 
■ And she gets all the whacks. — James Smith. 

Impromptu, 

Spoken between the third and fourth Acts of Cowley's 

Tragedy, ' The Fall of Sparta.' 

So great thy art — that while we view'd 

Of Sparta's sons the lot severe, 
We caught the Spartan fortitude, 
And saw their woes without a tear. 



ON A WELL-KNOWN IRASCIBLE CHARACTER. 

1 Affront me,' cries Phill, < all my friends you shall lose ; 

Then mark the decay of your trade ! ' 
' Oh ! if but in lieu comes a tithe of your foes, 

By Heaven ! my fortune is made ! ' 



From Yigee. 
I YAWN when you read ! — Am I wrong then? — Oh no ! 
That I listen, what proof more complete can I show? 



TRUTH-TELLING LOOKS. 

That there is falsehood in his looks, 

I must and will deny ; 
They say their master is a knave — 

And sure they do not lie. — Burns. 



THE CONSIDERATE DEBTOR. 



Squander, who ne'er through sickness keeps his bed, 
Ties up his knocker — doleful, dismal sight ! 

Not that he trembles for an aching head, 

But clamorous duns the neighbours may affright ! 



190 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

MIXING IN SOCIETY. 

Fitzmall, who drinks with knights and lords, 

To gain a share of notoriety, 
Will tell you, in important words, 

He mixes in the best society. 



WRITTEN ON A WINDOW. 

Where' eh the diamond's busy point could pass, 

See what deep wounds have pierced the middle glass ! 

While, partially, untouching all the rest, 

Highest and lowest panes shine un imprest, 

No wonder this ! for even in life 'tis so ; 

High fortunes stand unreach'd — unseen the low ; 

But middle states are marks for every blow. 



THE GAMING-HOUSE. 

To this dark cave three gates pertain- 
Hope, infamy, and death, we know : 
'Tis by the first you entrance gain, — 
By the last two alone you go. 



THE FRUGAL VIRTUOSO. 

Why does our friend thus fill his house 

With heads of ancient sages ; 
Who, 'tis well known, ne'er cared a louse 

For all their learm d pages ? 
Must I then name the cause ? I will ; 

Our friend, to save his chink, 
His house with company will fill, 

Who neither eat nor drink. 



UPON AULUS, AN IGNOBLE NOBLEMAN. 

From Owen. 
For honour, sordid Aulus ! which you share, 
To predecessors you indebted are : 
But your base spirit hath contrived to let 
Posterity from living in your debt. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 191 

HERCULES JEERED. 

"When Hercules, by Omphale subdued, 

Or held the distaff or with needle sew'd ; 

The vanquish'd lion's skin he wisely wore. 

To show what mighty feats he'd done before. 

Once a pert taskmate of the female train 

Her mirthful spleen no longer could restrain ; 

His metamorphosis she turn'd to joke, 

And thus she jeer'd the immortal hero's cloak : 

Dread sir, quoth she, methinks this shaggy skin 

Is but an odd dress to sit spinning in. 

You overcame a lion, did you say? 

And stripp'd his coat, in token of the fray ? 

Alack ! sir, should my mistress flay the corse 

Of all she vanquish'd, yours would fare the worse. 



'HOME, SWEET HOME.' 

Ko one longs half so much as a Scot or a Swiss 
For his home when abroad ; and the reason is this : 
Of all those who live absent from home there is not 
One from home half so long as a Swiss or a Scot. 



THE EFFEMINATE FOP. 

Fribble, while you with pride advance 
Your long establishment in France, 
By Paris air and taste refined 
To something of the monkey kind ; 
Whene'er we gossip, why lug in 
Some term significant of kin? 
Why, brother countryman, I'd know, 
To me, John Bull from top to toe ? 
Say where does the resemblance strike, 
And how are we so very like ? 
A score of curls in fluttering state 
Embellish your luxuriant pate ; 
My close-shorn poll and scanty suit 
Affect the smug Tom Onslow cut. 
Your powders, essences, and slops, 
From twenty advertising shops, 



192 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Creams, paste, pomades, and drugs, would pose 

The veriest perfumer's nose : 

My sole cosmetic soap, I ween, 

I ply the pump and think I'm clean. 

Your languishing falsetto note 

Scarce steals in whispers from your throat I 

My boisterous voice, from leathern lungs, 

Outballs a dozen fishmen's tongues. 

Hence we're no more alike, I gather, 

Than Pacchierotti and his father. 

But if we must alliance claim, 

Because our native soil's the same, 

And you persist, howe'er absurd, 

To brother me at every word ; 

I'll call you, set your mind at ease, 

My sister, Fribble, when you please. 



TO 






Would you follow a calling from peril quite free, 
Quit the land, and engage in the toils of the sea ; 

You may laugh while the billows rove round, 
Since, trust me, my friend, if old proverbs say true, 
The boisterous main has no dangers for you, 

As you never were born to be drown'd. 



From Be Callly. 
1 How blest, my dear brother,' said Sylvia one day. 
i Should I be, would you quit this bad habit of play : 

Do you mean to relinquish it never ? ' 
' When you cease to coquet, I'll quit play,' he replied. 
i Ah, plainly I see, my dear brother,' she cried, 

' You're determined to gamble for ever ! ' 



CONCEIT JUSTIFIED. 

'Cause Charles delights to hear himself, 
You call him a conceited elf ; 
From censure let his patience clear him, 
Who else could ever bear to hear him ? 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 
TO A SPENDTHRIFT DISINHERITED. 

His whole estate, thy father, by his will, 
Gave to the poor ; thou hast good title still. 



193 



Bonne. 



ON SOME ELEGIES ON A LAPDOG. 

Poor dog, whom rival poets strive 
To celebrate in plaintive strains ; 

If thou hadst horcV.d so when alive, 
Thou had'st been beaten for thy pains. 



THE ORIGIN OF THE INFLUENZA. 

While the faculty doubt whence La Grippe * can arise, 
The Doctor,f in everything equally wise, 

From himself the infection can trace : 
The symptoms — a heaviness nVd in the head, 
A weakness that rules when all vigour is fled, 

And a dread of all changes of place. 



BARBER AND COLLIER. 

Thus when a barber and a collier fight, 
The barber beats the luckless collier white ; 
The dusty collier heaves his ponderous sack, 
And, big with vengeance, beats the barber Mack; 
In comes the brick-dust man, with grim o'erspread, 
And beats the collier and the barber red. 
Black, red, and white, in various clouds are toss'cl, 
And in the dust they raise, the combatants are lost. 

Smart. 

DIFFERENT RIGS. 

For rigging our vessels wire-rope obtains praise, 
Till by tons to our ports Messrs Newall embark it. 

But electric wire-rope in these telegram days, 

Is not less in favour for rigging the market. — Punch. 

* The French name for Influenza. 

t Mr Addington, to whom his political opponents gave the ap- 
pellation of 'The Doctor,' was then minister. 
13 



lV± EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

TAKING PAXES. 

Beneath the piazza two wags chanced to pass, 
Where a shop was adorn 'd by an acre of glass. 
Quoth Tom, sotto voce, ' Hail ! Burnett and Co., 
Success now-a-days is dependent on show.' 
' Not so,' answer' d Richard, ( here industry reigns ; 
Success is dependent on using great panes.' 

James Smith. 

THE BILL AND THE BANKEE. 

A Bankee from Lombard Street, Temple Bar through. 

To see Mr Kean, drove away, 
And thus was accosted, ' Do buy a bill, do ; 

Fine fruit, and a bill of the play/ 

1 Away,' cried the Banker, ' your noise prithee stop, 

I wish you your paper had kept hence ; 
I thought at the play to get rid of the shop — 

Yet you bore me with hills for acceptance' 



ON THE SHELL JACKET. 

'Tis often said that, do the most they can, 
Nine tailors are required to make a man ; 
But look on yonder regimental suit, 
Made, as it were, the maxim to refute. 
It proves one tailor may his art employ, 
A regiment of soldiers to destroy. — Punch. 



THE SELF-APPLAUDEB. 

John puffs himself. — Forbear to chide — 

An insect vile and mean 
Must, well he knows, be magnified, 

Before it can be seen. 



THE THEEE AGES. 

Tom is a purse-proud and impudent blockhead, 
In his person the poet's three ages I trace : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 195 

For the gold and the silver unite in his pocket, 
And the brazen is easily seen in his face. 

Cornelius 0" Callaghan, Fsg. 



From the French. 

Ned, in a long and sleepy poem, 
Attempts to run my writings down ; 

And I, my just revenge to show him, 
His verses read to half the town. 



SELF-SATISFACTION. 

Jack his own merit sees — This gives him pride ; 
And he sees more than all the world beside. 



MISCELLANEOUS EPIGRAMS. 
PART II. 

HUMOROUS. 
THE DECANTEPw. 

From the Greek. 
O THOU, that high thy head dost bear, 
With round smooth neck and single ear; 
With well-turn'd narrow mouth, from whence 
Flow streams of noblest eloquence ; 
'Tis thou that fir'st the bard divine ; 
Sacred to Phoebus and the nine ! 
That mirth and soft delight canst move, 
Sacred to Venus and to love. 
Yet, spite of all thy virtues rare, 
Thou'rt not a boon-companion fair ; 
Thou'rt full of wine, when thirsty I ; 
And, when I'm drunk, then thou art dry. 



From Martial. 
Thy beard and head are of a different dye ; 
Short of one foot, distorted in an eye ; 
With all these tokens of a knave complete, 
Shouldst thou be honest, thou'rt an awful cheat. 

Addison, 

From Macentlus. 
Lycus was ask'd the reason, it is said, 
His beard was so much whiter than his head. 
* The reason,' he replied, 'my friend, is plain — 
I work my throat much harder than my brain ! ' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 19? 



THE SHOWER BATH. 

Quoth Dermot (a lodger at Mrs O'Flynn's) 

' How queerly my shower-bath feels ! 
It shocks like a posse of needles and pins, 

Or a shoal of electrical eels. ' 

Quoth Murphy, ' Then mend it, and I'll tell you how 
It's all your own fault, my good fellow ; 

I used to be bother'd as you are, but now 
I'm wiser — I take my umbrella ! ' 



EPIGRAM FOR BRADSHAW. 



'- Ha ! hark ! ' cries Harry ; ' there goes distant thunder ! 
Now, has that bolt kill'd any one, I wonder ? ' 
' Thunder ! ' quoth Dick. ' you hear the railway train ; 
I want to know how many that has slain.' — Punch. 



A TRUSTY confidant. 

Says Richard to Tom, with a good deal of heat, 

' My secret you've basely betray' d : 
When I told you, I never supposed you'd repeat, 

And after the promise jon made ! ' 

1 Friend Richard,' quoth Thomas, 'you're sadly astray; 

The secret I told, it is true ; — 
But if 'tis so precious, you cannot but say, 

Three guardians are better than two.' 



OX THE TRIAL OF THE TREAD-MILL BY MRS FRY 
MRS STEELE. 

When Mrs Fry and Mrs Steele 

One morning went to try 
To work a little at the wheel, — 

1 O dear ! I feel,' said Mrs Steele, 
1 All over in B.fry. 1 
' And so do I,' said Mrs Fry, — 

I'm sure I'll never steal.' 



198 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 



THE CANVASS AND THE POLL. 

An impromptu written while sitting under a marquee. 
When Parliament people petition their friends, 
The state of the poll on the canvass depends ; 
But here we submit to a difl'rent control, — 
The state of the canvas depends on the pole. 

James Smith. 



THE KOH-I-NOOR ; MAKING- SMALL BEER OF IT. 

As two jolly draymen were taking their round 

In the Palace of Crystal, enjoying the sight, 
A number of curious people they found 

Inspecting a thing called the Mountain of Light. 
Says one to the other, ' There's nothing so strange 

In a mere bit of glass to attract such a bevy.' 
Says the other, ' You're right ; and I'd gladly exchange 

Such a mountain of light for a fountain of heavy.' 

Punch. 



JEU D' ESPRIT. 

On seeing ' liars, Tailor/ on a door. 

By good authors we're told 

That Mars was of old 
A god, and had wonderful vigour : 

Opposed to his spear, 

A whole host, it is clear, 
Would have made but a pitiful figure. 

But what wonders, alas ! 

Does old Time bring to pass ! 
How the greatest he spitefully humbles ! 

Not contented to show 

His stern influence below, 
From their thrones the celestials he tumbles 

See, Mars now no more 
Shines a god, as of yore, 
His strength and his splendour are faded : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 199 

Dwindled down to a span, 
He's the ninth of a man, 
And his spear to a needle's degraded. 



A VALET RIDIXGr BEHIXD HIS HASTES, LOQUITUR. 

Je suis, ce que je suis, 
Je ne suis pas, ce que je suis, 
Car si j'etais, ce que je suis, 
Je ne serai pas, ce que je suis. 



3IAKIXG A SHIFT. 

Xell, tried for stealing linen, answer' d swift, 
Compell'd through want, she did it — for a shift. 



THE THIEF AXD THE TEAPOT. 

A thief stole a teapot, in a window placed ; 

Both pot and thief excessively were chased. 

And, after being taken, as they tell, 

Were both of them directly sent to cell. 

Still they were both alike, both still were suited, 

For each of them was teghly executed. 

esprit de corps. 

Old Captain Humdrum 

Was sent home in rum. 
The tars, as they brought him on shore, 

Got drunk with the pickle. 

' 'Tis natural,' says Jekyll, 
'They should all feel the esprit de corps.' 

PICKJXG- POCKETS. 

' These beer-shops/ quoth Barnabas, speaking in alt. 
6 Are ruinous — down with the growers of malt ! ' 
' Too true,' answers Ben, with a shake of the head. 
' Wherever they congregate, honesty's dead. 
That beer breeds dishonesty causes no wonder, 
'Tis nurtured in crime — 'tis concocted in plunder ; 
In Kent, while surrounded by flourishing crops, 
I saw a rogue picking a pocket of hops.' — Jama Smit 



200 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW.- 

AN ECONOMICAL REFLECTION. 

From a Hint of Scarron. 
All mortal things are frail — and go to pot ; 
What wonder, then, that mortal trousers rot ? 
My velvet torn, I shone in mimic shag ; 
Those soon grew rusty — and began to flag. 
Leather I hate ; nankeen was something queer ; 
Camblet was airy — but how apt to tear ! 
Quoth I, ' Sir Pricklouse, shall we try a rug ? ' — 
* Yes, sir/ says he ; ' those sure will hold a tug.' 
Ah no ! the rug decay 'd, like all the past ; 
Ev'n everlasting* would not ever last. 
' What must be done, my friend ? ' 'Why, sir, in troth, 
' With projects tired — I'd stick to common cloth.' 



EPITAPH ON A LOCOMOTIVE. 

Collisions four 

Or five she bore ; 
The signals wor in vain. 

Grown old and rusted. 

Her biler busted, 
And smash' d the Excursion Train. — Punch, 



THE PURPLE-FISH OR MUREX. 

O MOST ungrateful man, not only you 

Do dye with me ; but likewise eat me too.— Martial. 



ON A PERSON LAME OF HIS RIGHT HAND. 

Though nature thee of thy right hand bereft, 
Right well thou writest with thy hand that's left. 



ON A BARBER. 

My barber, like a sluggish knave, 
Though sure, is wondrous slow ; 

For while one beard he stands to shave, 
He lets another grow. 

.* A stuff so called. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 201 

THE FALL OF A PIGMY. 

Bestride an ant, a pigmy great and tall, 
Was thrown, alas ! and got a dreadful fall ; 
Under th' unruly beast's proud feet he lies, 
All torn ; but yet with generous ardour cries, 
' Behold, base envious world, now, now laugh on, 
' For thus I fall, and thus fell Phaeton.' 

Bishop Sprat. 



ON A NOBLE LORD. 

They say he has no heart ; but I deny it : 
He has a heart — and gets his speeches by it. 

SAGES AND FOOLS. 

In ancient times 'twas all the rage 

For each rich man to keep a sage ; 

In middle ages 'twas the rule 

For men of wealth to keep a, fool; 

But what with daughters, sons, and cousins, 

We now can count them both by dozens. 



on enclosing a common. 
A LORD that purposed, for his more avail, 
To compass in a common with a rail, 
Was reckoning with his friends about the cost 
And charge of every rail, and every post ; 
But one that wish'd his greedy humour cross'd 
Said, ' Sir, provide you posts, and, without failing, 
Your neighbours round about will find you railing.' 

Mr John Harrington. 

LINES OCCASIONED BY THE INTENDED DEMOLITION 
OF FRIAR BACON'S STUDY IN OXFORD. 

Koger ! if with thy magic glasses, 
Running, thou seest below what passes, 
As when on earth thou didst descry 
With them the wonders of the sky — 



202 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Look down on yon devoted walls ! 
Oh ! save them e'er thy study falls ! 
Or to thy votaries quick impart 
The secret of thy mystic art : 
Teach us, ere learning's quite forsaken, 
To honour thee, and — save our Bacon ! 



ON A DOCTOR TURNING SOLDIER. 

To Mars old Esculapius yields, — 

Young Cam projects no cures, but slaughter : 
The pistol, not the pestle, wields, — 

The warrior's, not the doctor's mortar. 



VERY LIKE A WHALE. 

The first of all the royal infant males 
Should take the title of the Prince of Wales ; 
Because 'tis clear to seamen and to lubber, 
Babies and whales are both inclined to blubber. 

THE QUID PRO QUO. 

Says the earth to the moon, ' You're a pilfering jade ; 

What you steal from the sun is beyond all belief.' 
Fair Cynthia replies, * Madame Earth, hold your prate 

The receiver is always as bad as the thief.' 



ON THE TREAD-MILL, INVENTED BY CUP>ITT. 

The coves in prison, grinding corn for bread, 
Denounce thee, Cubitt, every step they tread ; 
And, though the ancients used thee, sure 'tis hard 
The moderns cannot use the prison-y&nZ. 
By law they work, and walk, and toil in spite, 
Yet ne'er exceed two feet from morn till night. 



ON OXFORD FEES. 

When ' Alma Mater ' her kind heart enlarges, 
Charges her graduates, graduates her charges ; 
What safer rule could guide the accountant's pen, 
Than that of doubling fees for Dublin men. — Mansell. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 203 



THE EMPTY GUN. 

As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage, 

And, face to face, the noisy contest wage ; 

' Don't coch your chin at me/ Dick smartly cries : 

' Fear not — his head's not charged,' a friend replies. 



THE MEDDLER. 

' Will and Hal love their bottle.' Well, Prattle, why not ? 
Drink as much as they can, 'twill not make you a sot. 
' Surface revels all night, and sleeps out half the day.' 
Well, Prattle, his pranks will not turn your head grey. 
6 Charles is ruin'd by gambling, begs alms to subsist.' 
Well, Prattle, subscribe or withhold as you list. 
Be less busy, good Prattle, with other's affairs ; 
Keep an eye to concerns of your own, and not theirs. 
You're in risk of arrest, Prattle, that's your concern. 
None will lend you a doit, and you've no means to earn : 
I could preach thus a week, did my taste so incline, 
But, Prattle, your scrapes are no business of mine. 



ON THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 

John Bull and Brother Jonathan 
Each other ought to greet ; 

They've always been extravagant, 
But now 'make both ends meet.' 



THE MISER AND THE DERVISE. 

The miser, Sherdi, on his sick-bed lying, 
Affrighted, groaning, wheezing, praying, sighing, 

Expecting every hour to lose his breath — 
Enter a dervise — ' Holy Father, say, 
As life seems parting from this sinful clay, 

What can preserve me from the jaws of Death ? ' 
* A sacrifice, dear son — good joints of meat, 

Of lamb and mutton, for the priest and poor ; 
Nay, from the Koran should' st thou lines repeat, 

Those lines may possibly thy health restore.' 



204 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

* Thank ye, dear Father ; you have said enough ; 

Your counsel has already given me ease : 
Now, as my sheep are all a great way off, 

I'll quote our holy Koran, if you please.' 



ON CERTAIN JEW CLOTHING ESTABLISHMENTS. 

Half Hebrew, half English, the slopseller Moses 
Cries clo'es ail the week, but on Saturday closes. 

R. Sitripsoh. 



ON WALTZING. 

At first they move slowly, with caution and grace, 

Like horses when just setting out on a race ; 

For dancers at balls, like horses at races, 

Must amble a little to show off their paces. 

The music plays faster, their raptures begin, 

Like lambkins they skip, like te-totums they spin ; 

Now draperies whirl, and noAv petticoats fly, 

And ankles at least are exposed to the eye : 

O'er the chalk-cover'd ball-room in circles they swim, 

He smiles upon her, and she smiles upon him : 

Her hand on his shoulder is tenderly placed, 

His arm quite as tenderly circles her waist; 

They still bear in mind as they're turning each other, 

The proverb — ' One good turn's deserving another : ' 

And these bodily turns often end, it is said, 

By turning the lady's or gentleman's head. 



WEST COUNTRY POLITENESS. 

As a west country ma}^or, with formal address, 
Was making his speech to the haughty Queen Bess ; 
' The Spaniard,' quoth he, ' with inveterate spleen, 
Has presumed to attack you, a poor virgin queen ; 
But your Majesty's courage has made it appear 
That the Don had ta'en the wrong sow by the ear,' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 205 

LANDLORDS AND TENANTS. 

Says his landlord to Thomas, ' Your rent I must raise, 

Vm so plaguily pinch' d for the pelf.' 
1 Raise my rent ! ' replies Thomas, ' your honour's main 
good — 

For I never can raise it myself !* 

ON TWINING, THE TEAMAN. 

It seems as if nature had curiously plann'd 

That men's names with their trade should agree ; 

There's Twining, the teaman, who lives in the Strand, 
Would be whining, if robb'd of his T. — Hook. 



ON GROWING BALD. 

My hair and I are even now I see ! 

I've cut my hair, till now my hair cuts me. 



A CLOCK'S HARDSHIPS. 

A mechanic his labour will often discard 

If the rate of his pay he dislikes : 
But a clock — and its case is uncommonly hard — 

Will continue to work though it strikes ! 

Thomas Hood, 



KNOT AND CANNOT. 

Mr Burke once intended a lady to please — 
Observing some work that was pinn'd to her knees — 

By asking what work she had got ? 
' I'm knotting,' she answer'd, ' 'tis tiresome work, 
But pretty, when done ; can you knot, Mr Burke ? ' 

' No, madam,' said he, ' I can not.' 



IMPROMPTU, IN RETURN FOR A BRACE OF SNIPES. 

My thanks I'll no longer delay 

For the birds which you shot with such skill ; 
But though there was nothing to pay, 

Yet each of them brought in his bill. 



206 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

I mean not, my friend, to complain, 
The matter was certainly right ; 

And when tills such as these come again, 
I'll always accept them at sight. 



TRANSFORMATION. 

Poor Peter was in ocean drown'd, 

A harmless, quiet creature ; 
And when at length his corpse was found, 

It had become salt-petre. 



ON AN ABSCONDING DEBTOR. 

Owen Moore has run away, 
Owing more than he can pay. 

light-flnger'd jack. 
Jack, who thinks all his own that once he handles, 
For practice-sake purloin'd a pound of candles, 
Was taken in the fact : — Ah ! thoughtless wight ! 
To steal such things as needs must come to light. 



ON MAC-ADAM, THE ROAD-MAKER. 

' My Essay on Roads,' quoth Mac- Adam, 'lies there, 

The result of a life's lucubration ; 
But does not the title-page look rather bare ? 

I long for a Latin quotation.' 
A Delphin editiou of Virgil stood nigh, 

To second his classic desire ; 
When the road-maker hit on the shepherd's reply : 

' Miror magis, — I rather add mire.' 

Notes and Qaenc. 



BEER, OR FRENCH WINE? 

No ale or beer (says Gladstone) we should drink, 
Because they stupefy and dull our brains. 

But sour French wine, as other people think, 
Our English stomachs often sorely pains. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 207 

The question, then, is which we most should dread — 
An aching stomach or an aching head ? 

J. R. C. Wrigltt. 



APOLOGY FOR KNOCKING- A PRINTER'S TEETH OUT. 

I must confess that I was somewhat warm : 
I broke his teeth. Bat where's the mighty harm ? 
My works, he said, would not afford him meat : 
And teeth are useless, when there's nought to eat. 

T. Sheridan. 



THE KEEN SPORTSMAN. 

Hark. forward, cries the Squire ; his hounds 
Dash o'er his neighbour Crabtree's grounds, 

AVho call'd aloud (although too late), 
I wish your honour would but do 
To other folks as you're done to ; 

Let them not run through my estate. 
My friend, replies the laughing Squire, 
I'm doing just what you desire ; 
To all the country 'tis well known, 
I don't mind running through my own. 



AVOID EXTREMES. 



The damsel too prudishly shy 

Or too forward, what swain would possess ? 
For the one will too often deny, 

And the other too soon will say, yes. 



AT EIGHTY-FOUR. 

At fourscore and four did Mr Calonne 

Oft ride at full speed, very near ; 
A man once call'd out, past whom he had flown, — ■ 
' After what are you riding ? ' Said Mr Calonne, 

' Sir, after my eighty-fourth year.' 



208 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE SHIRT MULTIPLIED. 

As Bayes, whose cup with poverty was dash'd, 

Lay long in bed, while his one shirt was wash'd, 

The dame appear'd, and, holding it to view, 

Said, 'If 'tis wash'd again, 'twill wash in two,' 

' Indeed ! ' cries Bayes, ' then wash it, pray, good cousin, 

And wash it, if you can, into a dozen.' 

ON OYSTER-SHELLS. 

Here lies the remains of bones, whose birth 
Famed Colchester claim'd, all of true native worth : 
Though rich, they were humble, and never aspired ; 
Their sweetness all praised, and their taste all admired : 
True emblems of beauty and health they appear'd ; 
Though their heads had no hair, yet each wore a long beard. 
By all ranks beloved, yet how strange to relate, 
Though mankind they befriended, (disastrous fate !) 
They were torn from their beds, robb'd, and left to decay, 
And though others they fed, fell to hunger a prey ! 
Alas ! they were disttd, unrepining they fell, 
And too poor for a coffin, each had but a shell ! 

Written on the window of the Deanery House of 
St Patrick's, in Dublin. 
Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated ? 
Sure the fates have decreed they by halves should be 

treated. 
In the days of old John,* if you came here to dine, 
You had choice of good meat, but no choice of good wine : 
In Jonathan's] reign, if you come here to eat, 
You have choice of good wine, but no choice of good meat. 
O Jove ! how fully might all sides be blest 
Would' st thou but agree to this humble request: 
Put both Deans in one ; or, if that's too much trouble, 
Instead of the Dean, make the deanery double ! 

* The former Dean. t Dr Swift. 



MISCELLANEOUS EPIGKAMS. 
PART III. 

SENTIMENTAL AND DIDACTIC. 
OLD AGE. 
From the Greek. 
Age is the heaviest burden man can bear, — 
Compound of disappointment, pain, and care ; 
For when the mind's experience comes at length, 
It comes to mOurn the body's loss of strength ; 
Eesign'd to ignorance all our better days, 
Knowledge just ripens when the man decays ; 
One ray of light the closing eye receives, 
And wisdom only takes what folly leaves. 

R. Cumberland. 



From Martial. , 

A drop of amber, from the weeping plant, 
Fell, unexpected, and embalm' d an ant: 
The little insect, we so much contemn, 
Is, from a worthless ant, become a gem. 



THE PEICE OF FREEDOM. 

Adapted from Martial. 

Parson ! 'tis false ; 111 ne'er believe 
With liberty you wish to live : 
You hug your chains, and cut your jokes 
On us, poor independent folks. — 
But would you then indeed be free ? 
Come, I'll prescribe — without a fee. 
U 



210 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

First, then, 'tis plain you love to eat, 
And haunt the tables of the great : 
You shun the man, and think him poor, 
That cannot give you ' four and four.' 
Indeed, my friend, this must not be ; 
A parasite can ne'er be free. 

Next, doctor, you must drink no wine. — 
Why so ? Saint Paul, that great divine, 
Says, i Drink a little.' — That's not the question ;• 

You can't afford it. — But for digestion 

A glass of cider, or old mead, 

Or e'en mild ale, will do the deed. 

Then, you're a .captain in your dress ; 
A good black frieze would cost you less, 
And look more venerable too, 
Than that grey cloth — which I call blue. 
Talk what you please, you'll ne'er be free, 
If you despise economy. ■• 

Perhaps, too, you may think a wife 
Amongst the requisites of life : 
Why, take some healthy farmer's daughter, 
Some BlousalUul — nay, spare your laughter : 
She'll mend your shirts, inspect your brewing ; — 
A lady, sir, would be your ruin. 

Your pars'nage-house, I own, is mean.; 
But see ! that fragrant jessamine ; 
See ! how that woodbine round the door 
And lattice blooms ! — What would you more ? 
Oh ! doctor, could you but despise 
Life's pompous superfluities ; 
Could you but learn to live content 
With what indulgent Heav'n has sent ; 
Whate'er your lot, you'd live more free 
Than any prince — in Germany. 



From Martial. 

Thrice twenty years you've seen your grass made hay ; 
Your eyebrows, too, proclaim your hair is grey : 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 211 

Yet through all quarters of the town you run : 
At every ball and levee you make one : 
No great man stirs but you are at his -heels, 
And never fail both those who have the seals : 
You never miss St James's, ever chat 
Of lord or bishop this, or gentle that. — 
To youth leave trifles; — have you not been told, 
That, of all fools, no fool is like the old ? 



THE FEAILTY OF MAN. 

Can he be fair, that withers at a blast ? 
Or he be strong, that airy breath can cast T 
Can he be wise, that knows not how to live 1 
Or he be rich, that nothing hath to give? 
Can he be young, that's feeble, weak, and wan ? 
So fair, strong, wise, so rich, so young is man. 
So fair is man that death (a parting blast) 
Blasts his fair flower, and makes him earth at last ; 
So strong is man, that with a gasping breath, 
He totters, and bequeaths his strength to death ; 
So wise is man, that if with death he strive, 
His wisdom cannot teach him how to live ; 
So rich is man, that (all his debts being paid) 
His wealth's the winding-sheet wherein he's laid ; 
So young is man, that, broke with care and sorrow, 
He's old enough to-day to die to-morrow : 
Why brag'st thou, then, thou worm of five feet long ? 
Thou'rt neither fair, nor strong, nor wise, nor rich, 
nor young. — Quarles. 



IIAEDSHIP UPON THE- LADIES; OE, THE DEUDGEEY 
OF CAEDS. 

What though, fair nymphs, your business is to play, 
*Tis hard you must be busy night and day. 
Why should you want the privilege of men, 
Not take some small diversion now and then ! 
Had women been the makers of our laws, 
(And, that they were not, I can see no cause,) 
The men should drudge at cards, from morn to night ; 
And female pleasure be to read and write. — Sivift. 



212 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE VOWELS. 

We are little airy creatures, 
All of different voice and features ; 
One of us in glass is set, 
One of us you'll find, in jet ; 
T'other you may see in tin, 
And the fourth a box within : 
If the fifth you should pursue, 
It can never fly from you. — Swift. 



Imitation of Martial. 
My suit's kind granter first I prize ; 
Next, him who speedily denies : 
On you, what term shall I bestow, — 
Who grant not, and deny me slow ? 



THE TRULY RICH. 

They're richer who diminish their desires, 
Though their possessions be not amplified, 

Than monarchs, who, in owning large empires, 
Have minds that never will be satisfied. 

For he is poor that wants what he would have : 

And rich, who having nought, doth nothing crave. 

Sir T. Urchard. 



TOWN-LIFE AND COUNTRY- LIFE. 

T. How dull's a country life ! sage JBvfo cries : 
C. Dull as your life in town, his friend replies. 
T. How can you bear the same things o'er and o'er ? 
C. Yet what can Bath or London, pray, give more ? 
T. You eat and drink, and stroll about your fields; — 
C. Such are the joys your fav'rite town life yields. 
Yet, whilst our fields are green, our flow'rs are sweet. 
You breathe in smoke — and tread the dusty street. 
T. To shift the scene we've various public places ; — 
C. Yet still you meet the same dull-busy faces. 
T. Then fresh and fresh we read the daily news : 
C. Content, some weekly journal I peruse. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 213 

T. Can you the rooms, cards, company resign I 
C. Yes ; for health, ease, good air, and wholesome wine. 
T. But you've no neighbours. — C. Yes, we have a few ; 
And then — we're seldom plagued with folks like you. 

THE INVISIBLE. 

Written at College, 1717. 
What mortal burns not with the love of fame 1 
Some write, some fight — some eat themselves a name. 
For fame beau Frightful haunts each public place, 
And grows conspicuous for — his ugly face. 
Laura, the rural circle's constant boast, 
Sighs for the Mall, and longs to be a toast. 
The priestling, proud of doctrine not his own, 
Usurps a scarf — and longs to preach in town. 

Verus, though bless'd with learning, sense, and wit, 
Yet prides himself in never showing it : 
Safe in his cell, he shuns the staring crowd, 
And inward shines, like Sol behind a cloud. 
For fame let fops to distant regions roam, 
Lo ! here's the man — who never stirs from home ! 
That unseen wight — whom all men wish to see ; 
Illustrious grown — by mere obscurity. 



IRRESOLUTION. 

From Martial. 
Between the pulpit and the bar 

While thus you hesitate and trifle, 
You're growing older than old Parr ! 

Johnny, indeed you waste your life ill. 

If toward the Church your zeal draws strong, 
Three curacies are just now vacant ; 

If not, the law goes on ding-dong, — 

Rouse up, and try what you can make on't : 

Let us, at least, an effort see ; 

Be something — anything, for money ! 
For while you're doubting what to be, 

You're likely to be nothing, Johnny. 



214 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

MR POPE TO THE DUCHESS OF QUEEN SBURY. 

Did Celia's person and her sense agree, 

What mortal could behold her and be free ? 

But nature has, in pity to mankind, 

Enrich'd the image, but defaced the mind. — Pope. 



THE ANSWER. 

Had Pope a person equal to his mind, 
How fatal would it be to womankind ; 
But nature, who does all things well ordain, 
Deform'd the body, but enrich'd the brain. 



ON MISS FANNY CARELESS. 

Careless by name, and Careless by nature ; 
Careless of shape 5 and Careless of feature. 
Careless in dress, and Careless in air; 
Careless of riding in coach or in chair. 
Careless of love, and Careless of hate ; 
Careless if crooked, and Careless if straight : 
Careless at table, and Careless in bed ; 
Careless if maiden, and Careless if wed. 
Careless at church, and Careless at play ; 
Careless if company go, or they stay. 
E'en Careless at tea, not minding chit-chat; 
So Careless ! she's Careless for this or for that. 
Careless of all love or wit can propose ; 
She's Careless — so Careless — there's nobody knows. 
Oh ! how could I love thee, thou dear Careless 
thing ! 
(0 happy, thrice happy ! — I'd envy no King !) 
Were you careful for once to return me your love, 
I cared not how Careless to others you prove. 
I then should be -Careless how Careless you were ; 
And the more Careless you, still the less I should care. 



ON ONE who thought he had a MEANS OF 
FLYING TO THE MOON. 

And will Volatio quit this world so soon, 
And fly to his own native seat, the moon ? 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 215 

'Twill serve, however, in some little stead, 
That he sets qut with such an empty head, 

Doddridge. 



INSCRIPTION ON AN URN AT LORD CORK'S, TO THE 
MEMORY OF THE DOO HECTOR. 

Stranger, behold the mighty Hector's tomb ! 
See ! to what end both dogs and heroes come. 
These are the honours by his master paid 
To Hector's manes and lamented shade : 
Xor words nor honours can enough commend 
The social dog — nay, more, the faithful friend ! 
From nature all his principles he drew : 
By nature faithful, vigilant, and true : 
His looks and voice his inward thoughts express'd ; 
He growl' d in anger, and in love caress'd. 
No human falsehood lurk'd beneath his heart. 
Brave without boasting, generous without art. 
When Hector's virtues, man, proud man, displays, 
Truth shall adorn his tomb with Hector's praise. 



THE COUNTRY-HOUSE. 
SlCK of the noise and smoke of town, 
Old Simon, fat and wealthy grown, 
Resolved to seek some snag retreat, 
And build himself a country-seat. 

One day, in his perambulation, 
He spies a tempting situation. 
The house perhaps you oft have seen, 
Fast by the road on Turnham-green : 
Seven windows in the front are thrust, 
Spite of the sunshine and the dust : 
The road a cheerful prospect yields ; 
The walls are blank that face the fields. 

Twice ten stage-coaches, twice a day, 
Here from and to the town convey 
Old gouty cronies of the city, 
Who, in the country, wax full witty : 



216 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

Whole summer's days they sit and smoke, 
And on poor travelers crack their joke. 

Oar cit' the stage convej^s to town, 
And in the evening brings him down : 
For Simon 's heart, nor think it strange, 
Still hankers after the exchange ; 
And thrice a week he must peruse 
The Chronicles and London news. 
His conversation this supplies - 
With murders, rapes, and robberies, 
The price of stocks — and bankruptcies. 

Thus does our friend, from day to day, 
Contrive to huddle life away ; 
And thus this country-mouse you see 
Still busy — as a summer's bee. 

' Is this,' said I, ( your snug retreat ? 
I'd rather live in Newgate-street ; 
Or if, forsooth ! one must be chopping, 
I'd take a country-house — at Wapping.' 



LIFE. 

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law, 

Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw ; 

Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, 

A little louder, but as empty quite : 

Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse the riper sage, 

And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age ; 

Pleased with this bauble still, as that before, 

Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. — Pvj)e. 



On seeing the words i Domus Ultima J inscribed on the 
Vaults of the Duke of Richmond, in the Cathedral oj 
Chichester. 

Did he who thus inscribed this wall 
Not read, or not believe St Paul, 
Who says there is, where'er it stands, 
' Another house not made with hands ? ' 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 217 

Or shall we gather from these 'words, 
That house is not a House of Lords. 



TO MISS THIiALE. 



Wear the gown, and wear the hat ; 

Snatch thy pleasures while they last ; 
Hadst thou nine lives, like a cat, 

Soon those nine lives would be pass'd. 

Br Johnson. 



ON MENTAL ABILITY. 

Too much or too little wit, 

Doth only render the owner fit 

For nothing but to be undone, 

Much easier than if he"d none. — S. Butler. 



ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING. 

Sure 'twas by Providence design'd, 

Bather in pity than in hate, 
That he should be, like Cupid, blind, 

To save him from Narcissus' fate. — Goldsmith. 



THE PROVOST AND TRUTH. 

At college, once of late, 

Was seen the modest face of Truth ; 

The provost met the blushing j^outh, 

And ask'd what brought him to their gate 1 

* 'Twas'for admission, sir, I came.' 

' Your name, young man ? ' He gave his name. 

'Fly,' cried the doctor, in a fury : 

' Fly, or this instant, I assure ye, 

I'll bawl aloud — The Churdi in danger ! ' 

• You may refuse me,' said the stranger ; 
i But to your cost you soon may learn 
That Truth is sure to have his turn : 
Old Father Chronos is my sire, 

And grants whatever I require.' 



918 EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. 

ON A BEOKEN CORNELIAN HEART. 

Ill-fated heart ! and can it be 

That thou should'st thus be rent in twain ? 
Have years of care for thine and thee, 

Alike been all employ'd in vain ? 
Yet precious seems each shatter'd part, 

And every fragment dearer grown, 
Since he who wears thee, feels thou art 

A litter emblem of his own. 



ON RAILWAY ACCIDENTS. 

Short was the passage through this earthly vale, 
By turnpike roads when mortals used to wend ; 

But now we travel by way of the rail, 
As soon again we reach the journey's end. 



ON A DISSATISFIED MAN. 

Still restless, still chopping and changing about : 
Still enlarging, rebuilding, and making a rout ; 
Little Timotlry, outre as it may appear, 
Pulls down and builds up again, ten times a- year 
With this altering rage, poor dissatisfied elf ! 
What a pity it is he don't alter himself. 



CONSISTENCY. 
Though George, with respect to the wrong and the right, 
Is of twenty opinions 'twixt morning and night ; 
If you call him a turn-coat, you injure the man — 
He's the pink of consistency, on his own plan ; 
While to stick to the strongest is always his trim, 
'Tis not he changes side, 'tis the side changes him. 



11 r it ten wider a print representing persons skating. 
O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound, 

With nimble glide the skaters play ; 
O'er treach'rous pleasure's rlow'ry ground, 

Thus lightly skim and haste away. — l)r John ton. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 219 

ON A STINGY FOP. 

Curio's rich sideboard seldom sees the light, 
Clean is his kitchen, and his spits are bright ; 
His knives and spoons, all ranged in even rows, 
No hands molest, or fingers discompose ; 
A curious jack, hung up to please the eye, 
For ever still, whose flyers never fly ; 
His plates unsullied, shining on the shelf ; 
For Curio dresses nothing but himself. 



Written on the leaves of a Fan. 

Flavia the least and slightest toy 
Can with resistless art employ : 
This fan in meaner hands would prove 
An engine of small force in love ; 
Yet she, with graceful air and mien, 
Not to be told, or safely seen, 
Directs its wanton motion so, 
That it wounds more than Cupid's bow ; 
Gives coolness to the matchless dame, 
To every other breast a flame. 



TYRANNY UNIVERSAL. 

Better we all were in our graves 
Than live in slavery to slaves ; 
Worse than the anarchy at sea, 
Where fishes on each other \)vey ; 
Where, every trout can make as high rant 
O'er his inferiors as our tyrants, 
And swagger while the coast is clear ; 
But should a lordly pike appear, 
Away you see the varlet scud, 
Or hide his coward snout in mud. 
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach, 
He dares not venture to approach, 
Yet still has impudence to rise, 
And, like Domitian, leap at flies. 



220 E PI & RAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE AGRICULTURAL LABOURER. 

Our vicar still preaches of ' love of one's neighbour,' 
But that's a scarce article, friends, hereabout ; 

I was shut in the house when I couldn't find labour, 
And put into gaol when I look'd for it out. 

The gentry say deartfy and distress are all gammon, 
And shut up their hearts to the labourers' appeal ; 

Though to them it seems humbug to talk about famine, 
To us 'tis no humbug the famine to feel. 

Punch, 1846. 



THE LAW OF NATURE. 

Big fleas have little fleas to plague, perplex, and bite 'em, 
Little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ''ad infinitum.'' 

Fielder. 



Music, when soft voices die, 
Vibrates in the memory ; 
Colours, when sweet violets sicken, 
Live within the sense they quicken. 

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, 
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed ; 
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, 
Love itself shall slumber on. — Shelley. 



FORGIVENESS. 
It is the duty of a man 

To bless his greatest foe, 
And shield the arm that late was raised 

To work his direst w r oe. 

Just so the scented sandal -tree, 

In all its pride and bloom, 
Sheds on the axe that lays it low 

A sweet and rich perfume. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 221 

TWO WRETCHES. 

Rich Gripe doth all his thoughts and cunning bend 
To increase that wealth he wants the soul to spend : 
Poor Shifter doth his whole contrivance set 
To spend that wealth he wants the sense to get. 
How happy would appear to each his fate, 
Had Gripe his humour, or he Gripe's estate ! 
Kind Fate and Fortune, blend them, if you can ; 
And, of two wretches, make one happy man. — Walsh. 



UNCHARITABLENESS NOT CHRISTIAN. 

I know not if 'twas wise or well 
To give all heathens up to hell — 
Hadrian — Aurelius — Socrates — 
And others, wise and good as these ; 
I know not if it is forbid, 
But this I know — Christ never did. 



FARMING IN THE OLDEN TIME. 

The man to the plough, 
The wife to the cow, 
The girl to the sow, 
The boy to the mow, — 

And your rents will be netted. 

FARMING IN MODERN DAYS. 
Best man tally ho ! 
The girl piano ; 
The wife silk and satin ; 
The boy Greek and Latin, — 
xind you'll all be gazetted. 



Earth walks on earth like glittering gold ; 
Earth says to earth, We are but mould ; 
Earth builds on earth castles and towers ; 
Earth says to earth, All shall be ours. 



222 epigrams old and new. 

folly and wisdom. 
To borrow Folly's cap and bells, 

Though Wisdom oft descends ; 
Yet Folly, to her cost, doth find 

That Wisdom never lends. 
That Wisdom oft hath play'd the fool, 

Is seen in every age ; 
But here the bargain ends, for ne'er 

Hath Folly play'd the Sage. — Colton. 



EPITAPH. 

O'er this marble drop a tear : 

Here lies fair Rosalind ; 
All mankind was pleased with her, 

And she with all mankind. 

THE LAND OP BULLS. 

To find out the cause of Ould Ireland's distress, 

The nobs of the nation are puzzling their wigs ; 
But the cattle-show leads us to hazard this guess, 

The peasants are starving to fatten the pigs. 
This explains the strange stories recorded with stress 

In the Times, and indeed all the papers you touch ; 
While. men die of hunger induced by distress, 

The pigs and the calves die of eating too much. 

Punch. 

PROCR A STINATION. 
WHEN sloth puts urgent business by, 
To-morrow's a new day she'll cry ; 
And all her morrows prove it true — 
They're never used and therefore new. 



ON A MISER. 

Iron was his chest, 
Iron was his door, 

His hand was iron, 
His heart was more. 



EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 223 

VULGAR NATURES. 

Tender-handed stroke a nettle, 

And ifc stings you for your pains ; 
Grasp it like a man of mettle, 

And it soft as silk remains. 

'Tis the same with vulgar natures, 

Use them kindly, they rebel ; 
But be rough as nutmeg graters, 

And the rogues obey you well. 



TO LORD NELSON, ON HIS LORDSHIP'S NIGHT-CAP 
TAKING EIRE ON THE POET'S HEAD. 

Take your night-cap again, my good lord, I desire, 

For I wish not to keep it a minute ; 
V\ r hat belongs to a Kelson, where'er there is fire, 

Is sure to be instantly in it. — Peter Pindar. 

THE WORD 'NEWS.' 

The word explains itself without the muse, 
And the four letters speak whence comes the News. 
From North, East, West, and South this word is made 
E&ch part gives tidings of our war and trade. 



WHICH ? 

Des Barreaux, impotent and old, 
Assumes a very solemn brow ; 

The man is alter' d, we are told — 

How much reform'd we cannot know. 

When reformation thus begins, 

With legs so weak, and eyes so dim, 

'Tis doubtful if he quits his sins, 
Or if his sins have quitted him. 



ON THE PHRASE 'KILLING TIME. —TIME SPEAKS. 

There's scarce a point wherein mankind agree 
80 well as in their boast of killing me : 
I boat,t of nothing ; but, when TYe a mind, 
I think I can be even with mankind. 



224 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 

THE UPSTART RICn MAN. 

Bred to fetch porter to and fro, 

And stun the streets with ' Pots below ! ' 

You've found, Punch, none knows how or whence, 

The means of cash and consequence. 

Now, for stale crumbs and vapid beer, 

You feast on costliest wines and cheer ; 

Or in rich splendid rooms repose, 

Where erst you dared not thrust your nose ; 

And own the street, by lucky hap, 

Where stands your early master's tap. 

But I, a gentleman, alas ! 

At schools was doom'd my youth to pass. 

— Well may I deem my parents sots, — 

Oh that I had but carried pots ! — 

Hang pedagogues, and burn all books, 

If pot-boys come to rival Dukes. 



JESTS. 

All things are big with jest; nothing that's plain, 
But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. — Herbert. 



JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 



INDEX. 



INTRODUCTION. 

If a thousand arch epigrams are not enough 
One day in Chelsea meadows walking 
Take a portion of wit 
The qualities rare in a bee that we meet 
What is an epigram ? A dwarfish whole 



TAGE 

2 
1 
1 
1 
1 



MORAL AND ECCLESIASTICAL. 



A Bishop there was of Natal 

Abundance is a blessing to the wise 

An evil spirit's on thee, friend ! of late 

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet 

As lamps burn silent with unconscious light . . 

As once the Pope with fury full 

At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er . . 

By our preacher perplex'd 

Circles are praised not that abound 

Clergyman — I've lost my portmanteau 

Hark, hark, the clerk the service sings 

Here lies a sceptic, long in doubt 

How great thy might let none by mischief know 

'Live while you live,' the Epicure would say . . 

Myrtilla, rising with the dawn 

On parent knees, a naked new-born child 

Our life's a journey in a winter's day 

Punch tells you, my Lord Bishop, whether you think 

Pythagoras taught in a system most dreary . . 

That I was noble born, allow you must 

That there's no God John gravely swears 

15 



226 



INDEX. 



That thou may'st injure no man, dovelike be 

The intramural churchyard's reeking pale 

The specious sermons of a learned man 

This fav'rite maxim modern atheists boast 

This is God's House ; but 'tis to be deplored . . 

tfhracians ! who howl around an infant's birth 

To the church I once went 

Upon some hasty errand Tom was sent 

* What a frail thing is beauty ! * says Baron le Cms 

When men of infamy to grandeur soar ' 

You tell us, Doctor, 'tis a sin to steal 



AMATORY. 



{ A Temple to Friendship/ said LaUra, enchanted 

Advanced in years, the goddess Venus 

Ah, foolish Delia ! since you hate 

Ah ! tell me no more, my dear girl, with a sigh 

As a garland once I made 

As charm'd I view these rills, and grove3, and fields 

As, Venus, late you miss'd your boy 

At Laura's feet the God of Love 

But yet, methinks, it might be mended — 

By thee, on the sand of this shore 

Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses 

Dear Chloe, well I know the swain 

Fairest, to thee I send these gloves 

Fee-simple and the simple fee 

Fly me not, though I be grey 

Forgive, fair creature, form'd to please 

Friendship is like the cobbler's tye 

Galla, the seasons of each circling year 

Go — you may call it madness, folly 

Her image, who enslaves my mind 

His shafts, the terror of the skies . . 

How canst thou smile at my despair 

I ask'd my fair, one happy day 

I gave, 'twas but the other day 

I never knew a sprightly fair 

I shall expire with overwhelming woe 

I've found the boy so full of charms . . 



INDEX. 



227 



I would rather, dear girl, fewer claspings and kisses 

If silent oft you see me pine 

In the ages when innocence reign'd 'twas a pleasure 

In vain, within my tortured breast 

In vain you strive, by every art 

It was but a moment ! 'twas but like a dream ! 

Lesbia rails, without ceasing, at me the whole day 

Lethe's dark oblivious wave 

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk . . 

Lo ! where the bee from yonder rose 

Look, they are grey — but, turn'd to grey 

Love begg'd and pray'd old Time to stay 

Lucetta's charms our hearts surprise . . 

My Helen is little and brown, but more tender 

My Rosa, from the latticed grove 

O tell me not, with groundless fear . . 

* Oh, give to Lydia, ye blest Powers ! ' I cried 

Oh, how soft beam your eyes ! Oh, how tender their 

Permitted, unreproved, to gaze 

Print on my lips another kiss 

Say, wherefore is it lovers' lies 

Sighs, and looks, and soft attentions 

Since still my passion-pleading strains 

So much I press'd, so much I pray'd 

Stranger, whoe'er thou art, whose restless mind 

Talk not of snowy locks — have done — 

* Tell me,' said Laura, ' what may be . . 
The curtain nutters to and fro 

The girl that I love lately gave me a kiss 

The man who first laid down the pedant rule 

The Persians stretch their votive arms 

The violet in her greenwood bower . . 

Thus Adam look'd, when from the garden driven 

Thus by some stream's reflecting tide 

Time and Love are ever foes . . 

' Toast any girl but her,' said Ned 

Under Friendship's fair disguise 

Venus, take my votive glass . . 

"We pledged our hearts, my love and I 

What a rout do you make for a single poor kiss ! 

"What once I was, no more am I 

When Arria from her wounded side 

When Lesbia, to her lover dear 



gaze ! 



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228 



INDEX. 



"When the maid who possesses my heart 

Whosoever thou art, thy master see ! 

Why ask so oft, with fond alarms 

Why frown my fair ? — The mighty bliss 

With beauty, with pleasure surrounded, to languish 

With me while present, may thy lovely eyes . . 

Yes, false one, triumph in my woes . . 

Yes, I'm in love, I feel it now 

You call me still your life ; oh, change the word 

You gave me, dear Ellen, two kisses 

You say I love not, 'cause I do not play 



MARRIAGE AND MARRIED LIFE. 



A place under government 

Abel wants to marry Mabel 

Alas, that even in a heavenly marriage 

A mistress I've lost, it is true 

By one decisive argument 

Come hither, Sir John, my picture is here 

' Come, wife,' said Will, ' I pray you devote . . 

'Good-morning, dear Major,' quoth Lieutenant B 

He who marries once may be 

How like is this picture, you'd think that it breathes 

' I can tell you the first letter 

I took you, deceiver, ' for better for worse ' . . 

I will not ask if thou can'st touch 

It is a maxim in the schools 

John's wife and John were tete-a-tete ! 

Kind Katherine kiss'd her husband, with these words 

Maria, just at twenty, swore 

' My dear, what makes you always yawn V . . 

My Rosa from the latticed grove 

'My wife's so very bad,' cried Will 

' Nay, prithee, dear Thomas, ne'er rave thus and curse 

Of rank, descent, and title proud 

Post-haste to church flew Nick and bride 

Quoth Dick to Tom, ' This Act appears 

Sir, you are prudent, good, and wise 

Though matches are all made in heaven, they say 

Thoughtless that ' all that's brightest fades ' . . 



INDEX. 



229 



Tom praised his friend, who changed his state 
Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter 
Trumps ever rule the charming maid 
"Welsh judges two, four military men 
Whence comes it, that, in Clara's face 
When Loveless married Lady Jenny . . 
Which is of greater value, prithee, say 
Wilt thou dare to blame a woman for he: 

changes 
With a Patten to wife 

You always are making a god of your spouse 
You'd marry the marquis, fair lady, they say 



sudden 



SOCIAL LIFE AND SOCIAL FOLLIES. 



A cockney sportsman, gunning, to a country squire declares 

A haughty courtier, meeting in the streets 

A trav'ller, some little time back 

A watch lost in a tavern ! that's a crime 

Angling for dinner, Charles, at every line 

As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage 

At the top of the street many lawyers abound 

Friend Hog once promised me a pair of breeches 

He that has money is bother'd about it 

His lordship bought his last gay birthday dress 

Jack boasts he never dines at home 

Jack buys an ancient cottage, dismal, foul 

Kate's teeth are black ; white lately Bell's are grown 

Lend Spunge a guinea ! Ned, you'd best refuse 

' Mamma,' said Mrs Meagrim's daughter 

Many with this inquiry go about 

My hair and I are quits, d'ye see 

My thanks I'll no longer delay 

No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound 

Oh, shame to the manners, the times, and the age 

One bowing to me, I'd seen long ago 

One day the great Henry, his courtiers among 

Poor poet Doggrel's house consumed by fire 1 . . 

Quoth Doctor Squill of Ponder's End 

Said a thief to a wit, ' There's no knowing one's friends 

Said Stiggins to his wife one day 



230 



IXDEX. 



Strephon most fierce besieges Chloe 

Talk no more of the lucky escape of the head 

' Taxes are equal, is a dogma which 

Tell me why Justice meets our eye 

The courts in Guildhall, for the Polish ball 

The golden hair that Galla wears 

The law decides questions of Meum and Tuum 

The office of law-maker clearly you see 

The rule of the road is a paradox quite 

1 This splendid dress was made for me ' 

Thomas is sure a most courageous man 

Though I do 'Sir' thee, be not vain, I pray . . 

Though 'papa' and 'mamma,' my dear 

Though sages swear, ' Without a cause 

'Tis bad enough in man or woman ... 

To beat their poor old Grandames' hoops 

' To-day,' said Dick, 'is April day 

Tom taken by Tim his new mansion to view . . 

' What ! hang from the neck of a lady ! ' cries Bill 

What is the reason, can you guess 

When lovely woman, hoop'd in folly 

Why scorn red hair ? — the Greeks we know . . 

Tou ask a hundred guests unknown to me 



PERSONS,— LAUDATORY AND OTHERWISE. 



A Bishop by his neighbours hated 

A monster, in a course of vice grown old 

A virtuoso friend a man of worth 

Accept a miracle instead of wit 

Andrews, 'tis said, a comedy has writ 

Array'd in matchless beauty, Devon's fair 

At the court of a monarch for grandeur renown'd 

Before Apollo's shrine I pray'd 

Big Ben is crack'd, we needs must own 

Bloomfield, thy happy-omen'd name 

Brave sins beget brave sons, 'tis said 

Charles and Phil went up the hill 

Chloe's the wonder of her sex 

Clothed in his filth, lo ! Epigram appears 

Corinna's quite a fright to me 



INDEX. 



231 



Cyprus must now two Venuses adore 

Czar Nicholas cried as he look'd in the glass . . 

Czar Nicholas is so devout, they say 

Did Nicholas mean, say ye schoolmen so clever 

Dunces, rejoice, forgive all censures past 

Fair marble, tell, to future days 

Fine lectures Attalus rehearses 

For Jack's good life to certify 

From Scotia's mountains, hid in clouds 

George the First was reckoned vile 

Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man 

Great Homer's birth seven rival cities claim . . 

'Harry, I cannot think,' says Dick 

Here, beneath this cold stone 

Here comes Mr Winter, Collector of Taxes 

Here, into the dust 

Here lies a man who by relation 

Here lies a man who into highest station 

Here lies a man who never lived 

Here lies a man who never married 

Bfere lies a woman, good without pretence . . 

Here lies Fred 

Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such 

Here lies our mutton-eating king 

Here lies Robespierre — let no tear be shed 

Here lies the great — False marble, tell me where ? 

Here lies the father of taxation 

Here, reader, turn your weeping eyes 

Here rest I, Philip, on th' JEgean shore 

How D.D. swaggers, M.D. rolls! 

I do not love thee, Dr Fell . . 

' I have no hopes,' the Duke he says, and dies — 

I know the thing that's most uncommon 

I wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he talks ? 

If anybody comes to I 

If it be true, on Watts's plan 

If on his specious marble we rely 

If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter 

Immortal Neioton never spoke 

In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow 

Indeed Mr , it seems very odd 

Indulgent nature on each kind bestows 
In merry old England it once was a rule 



232 



INDEX. 



Jack says, 'tis prophesied, this very year 

Joe hates a sycophant. It shows 

King, warrior, philosopher, author, musician 

Let poets and painters their fancy pursue 

Lie heavy on him, earth ; for he 

Lie, Philo, untouched, on my peaceable shelf 

Look at me well ; then Adeline behold 

Louis Philippe 

Love's Queen, if what the poets say be true 

' Lysander is a foolish wight ! ' 

Mark'd by extremes, Susannah's beauty bears 

Menestratus, no doubt you deem 

Messieurs Cobden and Bright 

Midas, they say, possess'd the art, of old 

Muses nine we had before 

My friend, 'an eminent physician 

Nature, and nature's laws, lay hid in night 

Nobles and heralds, by your leave 

No more near yonder fountain stray . . 

None taught him homage, but by instinct he 

O dog ! how hast thou lost the glory . . 

O wonderful creature, a woman of reason 

Of a tall stature and a sable hue 

Of all the men one meets about 

Of danger careless, while the youth admires 

Offspring of a tuneful sire 

Oft 't has been said, on Irish ground . . 

Of years I have now half a century past 

Oh, but look in that mirror, and that will reflet 

Old and abandon'd by each venal friend 

Old John, a bookseller, renown'd in the trade 

One Prior ! and is this, this all the fame 

Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see 

Our ships at the Nile have created such terror 

Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you . .. 

Pleasant, airy, and gay, my laughter exciting 

Quoth Nash to the clock, ' Stand out of my way 

Kemember, remember, the man of December 

Saint Pavin lies beneath this tomb 

See old Anacreon hither reels 

Short, but not so fat as Bacchus 

Simillus, long in nature's spite 

Sly Cupid, perceiving our modern beaux' hearts 



INDEX. 



233 



Swift for the ancients has argued so well 

Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance 

'That soldier so rude, — he that swaggers in scarlet 

That thou, great genius ! here on earth art thrown 

The author sure must take great pains 

The City feast inverted here we find 

The eternal ferryman of Fate 

The only means left thee to please the whole nation 

There is a word I never use . . 

There was a little Bart. 

There was a man who was Nott born 

The sculptor's art can brass with life inspire . . 

The town has found out different ways 

They tell me Venus is in the sun 

This case is the strangest we've known in our life 

Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin 

Though beauteous Flavia heaven deprives of sight 

Though Ned is short, he doubtless stands 

Three poets, in three distant ages born 

Through regions by wild men and cannibals haunted 

Thy nags (the leanest things alive) 

To brave Themistocles of deathless fame 

To Madness, Swift bequeaths his whole estate 

Tom, weak and wavering, ever in a fright 

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune 

To Rosalinda's eyes who not submit 

To stone the gods have changed her — but in vain 

To stop the Persian monarch's way 

' To this night's masquerade,' quoth Dick 

Two brethren thin, call'd Bone and Skin 

Two Miltons in separate ages were born 

Underneath this sable hearse 

Underneath this stone doth lie 

Under this marble, or under this sill 

Vulcan to scorch thy dress in vain essays 

When great men fall, great griefs arise 

When I was young and debonnaire 

When Palmerston begins to speak 

When people borrow, it should be their care 

While Seeker lived, he show'd how seers should live 

Whilst in my absence, sir, you rail 

Wise, honest Plutarch ! to thy deathless praise 

Who the dickens e Boz' could be 



234 



INDEX. 



You fight so well and speak so ill 
Young Courtly takes me for a dunce 
Your art, ingenious painter, can renew 
Your lower limbs seem'd far from stout 



PAGE 

84 
59 
55 
82 



LITERATURE. 



A duke once declared — and most solemnly too — • . . . . 97 

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me . . 96 

Arthur, they say, has wit ; for what ? . . . . 88 

As oft, in vain, as he essay'd to tell . . . . 90 

Compare Correspondence with Articles ? Never . . . . 98 

Condemn not in such haste . . . . . . . . 96 

Friend ! for your epitaphs I'm grieved . . . . 88 

Half of your book is to an index grown . . . . 90 

His work now done, he'll publish it, no doubt . . 90 

Ho, ho ! Master Mouse ! safe at last in my cage . . 93 

King George, in a fright . . . . . . . . 93 

Lives of great men misinform us . . . . . . 97 

Lo! ev'ry subject Berkley treats . . ... . . 89 

Of a dull heavy folio here rests the last page . . . . 93 

Of Rogers's * Italy,' Luttrell relates . . . . . . 96 

Oh ! mourn not for Anacreon dead ! . . . . . . 94 

Old father Time, as Ovid sings . . ' . . . . 90 

On Stephen's tomb thou writ'st the mournful line ! . . . . 92 

Oxford, beware of over-cheap degrees . . . . 95 

Oxford, no doubt, you wish me well . . . . . . 94 

Says Ainsworth to Colburn . . . . . . . . 97 

Says Brewster to Whewell, ' Let's fight a star duel . . . . 97 

Shelley styles his new poem, * Promethus Unbound,' . . . . 96 

' Since mountains sink to vales, and valleys die . . 95 

Sir, I admit your general rule . . . . . . 95 

Some for the ancients zealously declare . . . . 90 

So much, dear Pope, thy English Iliad charms . . 89 

Take your facts from the last man ; — let no theft appal ye 95 

The ancients all your veneration have . . . . 87 

The French have taste in all they do . . . . 96 

The king observing, with 'judicious eyes . . . . . . 91 

The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse . . . . 91 

The raven, rook, and pert jackdaw . . . . . . 88 

The title D.D. 'tis proposed to convey . . . . 98 



INDEX. 



235 



They say his wit's refined. Thus is explain'd 

Thy verses are eternal, O my friend . . 

*Tis generous, Theobald, in thee and thy brothers 

'Tis said, O most gracious Apollo 

To cheer the widow's heart in her distress 

To fast and pray, we are by Heaven taught 

To mark her Shakespeare's worth, and Britain's love 

True wit is like the brilliant stone . . 

' Vile Critic/ exclaimed a poor author in pique 

We everyday bards may * anonymous ' sign . 

When Jamie Boswell took his pen ' 1 . . 

While Butler, needy wretch ! was yet alive . 

While, burning with poetic fire 

While Cam and Isis their sad tribute bring 

* Who wrote Eikon Basilike ? ' 

'Why ne'er to me,' the Laureate cries 

With eyes of wonder the gay shelves behold . 

With faulty accents and so vile a tone 

You come, — away flies every mother's son 



90 
91 
95 
96 



92 
94 
92 
91 



94 
87 
92 

87 
87 



PHILOSOPHICAL. 



A pedant, to perplex a child . . . . . . . . 100 

Ah ! woe is me ! from day to day . . . . . . . . 103 

All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness ! . . . . 99 

At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er . . . . 101 

Beauty is but a short-lived flower . . . . . . . . 102 

Cloy'd with ragoftts> you scorn my simple food . . 99 

Come, gentle sleep, attend thy votary's prayer . . . . 104 

Curved is the line of Beauty . . . . . . . . 105 

Faith, Hope, and Love were question'd what they thought . . 100 

For every ill beneath the sun . . . . . . . . 103 

Fortune, some say, doth give too much to many . . . . 100 

Hail, charming power of self -opinion ! . . .. . . . 104 

Hear ye that awful truth . . . . . . . . . . 102 

He fawns for more, though he his thousands touch . . . . 100 

I've not said so to you, my friend, and I am not going . . 105 

I wish thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend . . . . 104 

I wouldn't live for ever . . . . . . . . . . 10(5 

If every man's internal care . . . . . . . . . . 103 

Let pleasure be granted to youth . . . . . . . . 103 



236 



INDEX. 



Let this plain truth those ingrates strike 

Lord ! if our days be few, why do we spend 

Love and Folly, while at school 

O wherefore should I murmur thus ? . . 

Once on a time, as holy authors say . . 

Or bathed in bliss, or overwhelm'd in woe 

Religion's path they never trod 

That all from Adam first begun : 

These toys can to a thinking mind . . 

The seven first years of life, man's break of day 

The world of fools has such a store . . 

' Tis a mere nothing that you*ask, you cry 

What is man's history ? Born — living — dying 

Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round 



LAW AND LAWYERS. 



A Baron, a Justice, a Preacher — sons three 
A justice walking o'er the frozen Thames 
A plaintiff thus explain'd his cause . . 
A weighty lawsuit I maintain- 
As by the Templars' hold you go 
As Jekyl was hastening with gown and with wig 
Behold the sergeant full of fire 
Beneath this stone a quibbling lawyer lies 
' Call silence ! ' the judge to the officer cries 
Deluded men ! these holds forego 
In a cause of three years, for three pinches of snuff 
In Craven St, Strand, ten attorneys find place 
Mr Leach made a speech 
My cause concerns nor battery nor treason 
O thou, who labour'st in this rugged mine ! . . 
Once, says an author, where I need not say . . 
One day a justice much enlarged 
Pleadings on pleadings rise, a mountain J 
Says Will to Mat, * What cause can be assign'd 
Since Tom first went to law with Ned 
The constable of a country town 
The house a lawyer once enjoy'd 
Three inches of a party wall . . . . 

Two lawyers, when a knotty case was o'er • . 



IXDEX. 



237 



When painters or sculptors give Justice a face 
"Why should honesty seek any safer retreat . . 
You crack my pate, then bid me take the law 



PAGE 

113 
114 
111 



DOCTORS AND MEDICINE. 



A doctor and an undertaker met 

A doctor, who for want of skill 

And, Doctor, do you really think 

By nature madman, and by study fool 

Cade, who had slain ten thousand men 

Diaulus, late who void of skill 

England's ingratitude still blots 

Evans, of worm-destroying note 

Glenbervie, Glenbervie 

His long speeches, his writings, in prose and in rhyme 

I've despatch'd, my dear Madam, this scrap of a letter 

My system, doctor, is my own 

Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot 

The king employ'd three doctors daily 

The wish should be in form reversed 

Thou essence of dock, valerian, and sage 

Three faces wear the doctor ; when first sought 

"When Florio for the sickly fair indites 

When quacks, as quacks may, by good luck to be sure 

Would you send the man you hate 

Would you wish to get well without failing . 

Yes ! 'twas politic, truly, my very good friend 



THE FINE ARTS. 



All must old Hogarth's gratitude declare 

Chantrey invented the best of gun-locks 

Claude's distances are too confused 

Hail to thy pencil ! Well its glowing art 

He hit the birds, and with an aim as true 

His time was fleet, his touch was fleet 

If beauteous Kitty boasts a charm 

If to sing with a voice that would beat Stentor's hollow 

In fields Ribaldo stray'd 



238 



INDEX. 



Music has charms to soothe a savage breast . . 

Shall Chantrey be call'd a destroyer or not ? . . 

Some say, compared, to Bononcini 

So rude and tuneless are thy lays 

Swans sing before they die : 'twere no bad thing 

That picture-raffles will conduce to nourish . . 

The art of painting was at first designed 

The carver's knife in vain their limbs shall sever 

Their good and ill from the same source they drew 

Though mean thy rank, yet, in thy humble cell 

'Tis a well-painted picture, but perish the art 

Unable to descant in tunable rhyme 

Were there on earth another voice like thine . . 

When age my throbbing heart shall tame 

When Chloe's picture was to Chloe shown 

Whene'er the Tuscan spreads her vocal charms 

When famed Varelot this little wonder drew . . 

When Orpheus went down to the regions below 

When two throats together squall 

With gun or chisel thou art doubly clever 



PA.GE 

127 
125 
125 
125 
127 
124 
124 
124 
124 
121 
121 
125 
122 
122 
123 
127 
122 
126 
125 
124 



CONVIVIAL. 



A hamper I received of wine 

A humorous fellow, in a tavern late 

A jolly brave toper, who could not forbear 

A landlord of Bath put upon me a queer hum 

Acerra smells of last night's wine, you say . . 

' Brother bucks, your glasses drain ' . . 

Clear brook, whose grateful murmur lulls the ear 

Come, my friend, let's push about 

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood 

Good wine, a friend, or being dry 

Here Bibo reposes : on earth while a dweller 

Honest William, an easy and good-natured fellow 

Not the planet that, sinking in ocean 

On marble tombs let no rich essence flow 

Of this establishment how can we speak ? 

Remark how wisely ancient art provides 

The jolly members of a toping club 

The Prince came in, and said 'twas cold 



131 
131 
130 
130 
129 
132 
132 
132 
129 
129 
133 
131 
123 
128 
131 
129 
129 
129 



INDEX. 



239. 



Whence comes it, that in Clara's face 

"With me the rosy goblet share . . . . 

Yes, I own that my courage was never so strong 

You often pity honest Xed . . 

Your exquisite verses, your exquisite wine . . 



PAGE 

133 
128 
133 
132 
133 



TOPOGRAPHICAL. 



Had Marlborough's troops in Gaul no better fought 

In Coin, the town of monks and bones 

In England, rivers are all males 

King Bladud once perceived his hogs 

Our Euclid may go to the wall 

Scotland ! thy weather's like a modish wife 

See how the wand'ring Danube flows 

' See, sir, see here's the grand approach 

Southampton's wise sons found the river so large 

The cit complains to all he meets 

The garb Dutch or Cossack in which our beau kind 

The king of Great Britain was reckon'd before 

The lofty arch his high ambition shows 

The minnows, as through this vast arch they pass 

The trustees of this place on such daubs spend their 

The Turk in linen wraps his head 

This little village serves to show 

To tell why banks thus in Scotland obtain 

Twas thought the Queen would this year go 

Why bad drainage should frighten . . 

Your room, though long and narrow . . 



gold 



136 
133 
135 
137 
138 
13T 
135 
135 
138 
137 
136 
136 
134 
135 
138 
134 
134 
137 
138 
139 
137 



UNGALLANT. 



A headstrong wife, who oft came in for blame 

A scholar was about to marry 

A woman lately fiercely did assayle . . 

Amelia waved her fan with glee 

As gay Lord Edward, in a lively freak 

By thee on the sand of this shore 

Celia her sex's foible shuns 



140 
147 
142 
147 
143 
145 
143 



240 



INDEX. 



' Dear Cupid,' I cried, 'do consult with your mother 

Good people all, with one accord 

How old may Phillis be, you ask 

How wisely Nature, ordering all below 

I took you, deceiver, 'for better for worse * 

Iris, you are unjust to say 

Is Molly Fowle immortal ? No ! 

Keeping Tom's wedding-day, his friends 

Loud bray'd an ass. Quoth Kate, ' My dear 

Lucasia, never blush to own 

My heart still hovering round about you 

' No wonder Mary's feet are small ' . . 

Phillis, each day your tongue, 'tis true 

Says Giles, ' My wife and I are one . . 

Says the wife of a Cantab, ' Pray tell me how is it 

Selinda sure's the brightest thing 

' She's secret as the grave,' allow 

Since no woman could live unless constantly heard 

That opposite effects may flow 

The demon of fashion Sir Fopling bewitches . 

This world is a prison in every respect 

Though marriage by some folks 

To Chloe's study shall we go 

Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter 

We men have many faults 

Whilst in the dark, on thy soft hand I hung . 

With angel face and faultless form . . 

You ask me, your servant, to give you in rhyme 



HISTORY IN EPIGRAMS. 



'A new Achilles, I,' spake Gaul's stern chief 

An estate and an earldom at seventy-four 

Behold a proof of Irish sense 

Britain at length her wrath declares . . 

Britannia long her hapless fate had mourn'd . 

By various means th' immortal Homer seeks 

Charles at this time, having no need 

Drop upon Fox's grave a tear 

Dryden, in immortal strain 

Fair Amazon ! the cruel foe . . 



INDEX. 



241 



PA.QE 

Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties . . . . 163 

For addition, Pitt's talents let all men revere . . . . . . 159 

From Colophon some deem thee sprung . . . . . . 149 

Gaeta's defenders, 'twould seem, have a turn . . . . 164 

Give me a royal niche — it is my due . . . . . . 157 

How monarchs reign is easily explain'd . . . . . . 158 

If ever royal virtues crown'd a crown . . . . . . 151 

In all humanity we crave . . . . . . . . . . 153 

In Anna's wars immortal Churchill rose . . . . . . 154 

In cutting, and dealing, and playing their cards . . . . 162 

In most things I did as my father had done . . . . . . 154 

It is for this the Spanish maid aroused . . . . . . 161 

Miltiades ! thy valour best . . . . . . . . . . 149 

O had'st thou served the heroine all thy days . . . . 151 

O Nature ! to Old England still . . . , . . . . 151 

O Sovereign of an isle renown'd for undisputed sway . . 158 

Of all hard-named generals that caused much distraction . . 161 

On Edward's brow no laurels cast a shade . . . . . . 151 

On folly every fool his talent tries . . . . . . . . 163 

Pretender in the Isle of Egg . . . . . . . . 155 

Quoth Lucifer Lowe . . " . . . . . . . . 165 

Replete with soul, the monarch stood alone . . . . . . 150 

Says Boney to Johnny, ' I'm coming to Dover ' . . . . 161 

Says Old Nick to his crony, old Emperor Nero . . . . 160 

Shall Chatham die and be forgot ? Oh no ! . . . T . . 157 

Sick of a life, possess'd in vain . . . . . . . . 152 

So gentle in peace Alcibiades smiled . . . . . . 162 

Sure England, single-handed, still may hope . . . . 161 

The City feast inverted here we find . . . . . . 159 

The cock of glory is the cock Frangais . . . . . . 165 

The death of the ojaeen has caused great perturbation . . 163 

The Earl of Chatham with his sword drawn . . . . . . 161 

The muses to Herodotus, one day . . . . . . . . 149 

These Napoleon left behind . . . . . . . . . . 160 

The toast of each Briton in war's dread alarms . . . . 157 

Though Victory refused our arms to bless . . . . . . 164 

Three monarchs now, of Brunswick's honour'd race . . . . 156 

Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain . . . . . '. 162 

Tis false : — the trial of the Queen was fair . . . . . . 164 

To Spain, entranced in golden dreams . . . . . . 162 

'Twas the Russian's conscription, the papers declare . . . . 165 

What can the cause be, when the king hath given . . . . 152 

When Emperor Nap. to France return'd . . . . . . 160 

16 



242 



INDEX. 



When Garibaldi ceased his high command 

When Gifford commenced his attack on the Queen . , 

When More some years had Chancellor been . . 

When noble Essex, Blount, and Danvers died 

When the seals were deliver'd to Macclesfield's charge 

When wit and genius meet their doom 

While Red and White Rose dwelt as neighbours long 

Ye politicians, tell me, pray 



POLITICAL. 



As the late Traded Unions by way of a show 

• By proxy I pray, and by proxy I vote 
Dans les terns affreux d'autrefois 
France Stant si malade, je n'ose pas dire 
' Gen'nle Cass, sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar 
He that bombards and runs away 
He wants a new blade, for the old one has flown 
His degradation is complete 
I'm a Member ! I'm a Member ! 
I'm a straight-spoken kind o' creetur 
Let Lyndhurst chide till tired and hoarse 
My countrymen, that they may pay the rent 
No wonder Tory landlords flout 
Oh Darby ! — for so . . 
Our fathers fought to publish the debates 
Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies 
Peel's patronage of Dr Reid 
Quoth a Quidnunc to Derby, * How corner it, I wonder 
Should women sit in parliament 
Sir Edward says I want to raise a riot 
Strange is it, proud Pontefract's borough should sully 
Take them editors that's crowin ' 
The oddest of all oddities 

* The Queen is with us,' Whigs exulting say . . 
The snake, tradition's tale avers 
The Whigs by their Budget were only inclined 
1 This long word comes only from parler, to speak 
Three hundred articles and odd 
Tis said that Peel . . . . . . . • 

Tomkins will clear the land, they say 



INDEX. 



243 



To represent is but to personate 

Treason does never prosper ; what's the reason ? 

We read, Ledru, that there were three 

What is a Unionist ? one who has yearnings 

When Henry Brougham turns a Tory 

When lickspittles would praise 

When Tom had seditiously dared to exclaim 

Whoever 'd ha' thought sech a pisonous rig 

Why are St Alban's voters 



PA.GE 

166 
168 
173 
167 
170 
175 
167 
169 
173 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



I. SATIRICAL. 



A Banker from Lombard Street, Temple Bar through 

A certain statesman, found to have the stone 

A parson, of too free a life 

A Pat, an odd joker, and Yankee, more sly . . 

* A Yorkshire man ! and ostler still ! . . 

' Affront me,' cries Phill, ' all my friends you shall lose 

As Quin and Foote one day walk'd out 

As Thomas was cudgell'd one day by his wife 

Beneath the piazza two wags chanced to pass 

'Cause Charles delights to hear himself 

Cease, ye Etonians ! and no more 

Curio, whose hat a nimble knave had snatch'd 

Fitzmall, who drinks witli knights and lords 

For honour, sordid Aulus ! which you share . . 

For rigging our vessels wire-rope obtains praise 

Frank carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats 

Fribble, while you with pride advance 

He knew the seat of Paradise 

His whole estate, thy father, by his will" 

1 How blest, my dear brother,' said Sylvia one day 

Hunt not, fish not, shoot not 

* I laugh,' a would-be sapient cried 

I yawn when you read ! — Am I wrong then ? — Oh no 

In vain, poor sable son of woe 

Jack his own merit sees — Tliis gives him pride 

John puffs himself. — Forbear to chide 

John Trott was desired by two witty peers . . 



194 

186 
187 
177 
184 
189 
178 
182 
194 
192 
185 
179 
190 
190 
193 
182 
191 
181 
193 
192 
179 
184 
189 
185 
195 
194 
180 



244 INDEX. 

PAGE 

Long have I grieved for dismal times . . . . . . 183 

Lucas, with ragged coat, attends . . . . . . . . 177 

My debtor Paul looks pale and harass'd . . . . . . 181 

My wealthy master now resolved to seek . . . . . . 176 

Ned, in a long and sleepy poem . . ... . . . , 195 

No one longs half so much as a Scot or a Swiss . . . . 191 

Old South, a witty churchman reckon'd . . , «, . . 182 

Pamphlet last week, in his fantastic fits . . . . . . 180 

Paul, I have read your book, and, though you write ill . . 180 

Poor dog, whom rival poets strive . v . . . . . . 193 

Possess'd of one great hall for state .i ~ J . . . . . . 188 

Pride is his pity, artifice his praise . . .. .. ..188 

Quoth Harry to his friend, one day . . . . . . . . 188 

Robin ! known throughout the land . . . . . . . . 183 

Says Chloe, ' Though tears it may cost . . . . . . 187 

Says the squire to the parson, ' If you were to lie . . . . 181 

So great thy art — that while we view'd . , . . . . 189 

So many thousands for a house . . . . . . . . 184 

Some wiseacres sadly their noddles perplex . . . . . . 183 

Sound sleeps yon guardian of the night . . . , . . 182 

Squander, who ne'er through sickness keeps his bed . . . . 189 

Such fine-spun pain does want excite . . . . . . 186 

That bootless host of high-born beggars . . . . . . 187 

That there is falsehood in his looks . . . . , . . . 189 

The astrologers did all alike presage . . . . , . . . 176 

The only fair traders in London that are . . . . . . 181 

The vilest of compounds while Balderdash vends . . . . 176 

This pair in matrimony . . . . . . . . . . 189 

Three colonels, in three distant counties born , , . . 180 

Thus when a barber and a collier fight . . . . . . 193 

'Tis often said that, do the most they can . . . . . . 194 

Tom Goodfellow came to his fortune on Sunday . . . . 186 

Tom is a purse-proud and impudent blockhead . . . . 194 

To rob the public two contractors come , . . . . . 185 

To sit a guest at Timon's sumptuous board . . . . . . 187 

To this dark cave three gates pertain . . . . . . 190 

Venit ad Euphratum, rapidis perterritus undis . . . . 178 

Virgil, whose magic verse enthrals . . . . . . . . 187 

Walking out the other day . . . . . . . . . . 177 

"We grease the axle that it may not creak . . . . . . 188 

What mean ye, by this print so rare . . . . . . . . 185 

When Eve brought wo to all mankind . . . . . . 179 

When Hercules, by Omphale subdued . . . . . . 191 



INDEX. 2545 

PAGE 

When MacGrath reign'd o'er Arthur's crew . . . . . . 177 

"Where'er the diamond's busy point could pass . . . . 190 

While the faculty doubt whence La Grippe can arise . . . . 193 

' Who lives there, honest fellow ? ' said a travelling stranger . . 184 

Why does our friend thus fill his house . . . . . . 190 

With fear, on the Euphrates' shore . . . . . . . . 178 

Would you follow a calling from peril quite free . . . . 192 

Young Damon vows, nay, hear him swear . . . . . . 180 

You say you'll spend a thousand pound . . . . . . 186 

1 You see,' said our host, as we enter'd his doors . . . . 181 

You who, on coach-box mounted, whirl along . . . . 185 



II. HUMOROUS. 

A lord that purposed, for his more avail . . . . . . 201 

A mechanic his labour will often discard . . . . . . 205 

A thief stole a teapot, in a window placed . . . . . . 199 

All mortal things are frail — and go to pot . . . . . . 200 

Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated . . 208 

As a west country mayor, with formal address . . . . 204 

As Bayes, whose cup with poverty was dash'd . . . . 208 

As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage . . . . . . 203 

As two jolly draymen were taking their round . . . . 198 

At first they move slowly with caution and grace . . . . 204 

At fourscore and four did Mr Calonne . . . . . . 207 

Bestride an ant, a pigmy great and tall . . . . . . 201 

B} good authors we're told . . . . . . . . . . 198 

Collisions four . . . . . . . . . . . . 200 

1 Ha ! hark ! ' cries Harry ; ' there goes distant thunder ! . . 197 

Half Hebrew, half English, the slopseller Moses . . . . 204 

Hark forward, cries the Squire ; his hounds . . . . . . 207 

Here lies the remains of bones, whose birth . . . . . . 208 

I must confess that I was somewhat warm . . . . . . 207 

In ancient times 'twas all the rage . . . . . . . . 201 

It seems as if nature had curiously plann'd . . . . . . 205 

Jack, who thinks all his own that once he handles . . , . 206 

Je suis, ce que je suis ,. .. .. .. .. 199 

John Bull and Brother Jonathan . . . . . . . . 203 

Lycus was ask'd the reason, it is said . . . . . . 196 

Mr Burke once intended a lady to please . . . . . . 20 5 

My barber, like a sluggish knave . . . . . . . . 200 



246 



INDEX. 



'My Essay on Roads,' quoth Mac-Adam, 'lies there 

My hair and I are even now I see 

My thanks I'll no longer delay 

Nell, tried for stealing linen, answer'd swift . . 

No ale or beer (says Gladstone) we should drink 

O most ungrateful man, not only you 

O thou, that high thy head dost bear 

Old Captain Humdrum 

Owen Moore has run away 

Poor Peter was in ocean drown'd 

Quoth Dermot (a lodger at Mrs O'Flynn's) 

Roger.! if with thy magic glasses 

Says his landlord to Thomas, ' Your rent I must raise . 

Says Richard to Tom, with a good deal of heat 

Says the earth to the moon, ' You're a pilfering jade 

The coves in prison, grinding corn for bread 

The damsel too prudishly shy 

The first of all the royal infant males 

The miser, Sherdi, on his sick-bed lying 

' These beer-shops,' quoth Barnabas, speaking in alt 

They say he has no heart ; but I deny it 

Though nature thee of thy right hand bereft . 

Thy beard and head are of a different dye 

To Mars old Esculapius yields . . 

When ' Alma Mater ' her kind heart enlarges 

When Mrs Fry and Mrs Steele 

When Parliament people petition their friends 

'Will and Hal love their bottle.' Well, Prattle, why not ? 



III. SENTIMENTAL AND DIDACTIC. 



A drop of amber, from the weeping plant 
Age is the heaviest burden man can bear . . 
All things are big with jest ; nothing that's plain 
And will Volatio quit this world so soon 

At college, once of late 

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law 

Best man tally ho ! . . 

Better we all were in our graves 

Between the pulpit and the bar 

Big fleas have little fleas to plague, perplex, and bite 

Bred to fetch porter to and fro 



INDEX. 



247 



PAOS 

Can he be fair, that withers at a blast? . . . . . . 211 

Careless by name, and Careless by nature . . . . . . 214 

Curio's rich sideboard seldom sees the light . . . . - . 219 

Des Barreux, impotent and old . . . . . . . . 223 

Did Celia's person and her sense agree . . . . . • 214 

Did he who thus inscribed this wall . . . . . . 216 

Earth walks on earth like glittering gold . . . . . . 221 

Flavia'the least and slightest toy . . . . . . . . 219 

Had Pope a person equal to his mind . . . . . . 214 

How dull's a country life ! sage Bufo cries . . . . . . 212 

I know not if 'twas wise or well . . . . . . . . 221 

Ill-fated heart ! and can it be . . . . . . . . 218 

Iron was his chest . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 

It is the duty of a man . . . . . . . . . . 220 

Music, when soft voices die . . . . . . . . 220 

My suit's kind granter first I prize . . . . . . . . 212 

O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound . . . . . . 218 

O'er this marble drop a tear . . . . . . . . . . 222 

Our vicar still preaches of ' love of one's neighbour ' . . . . 220 

Parson ! 'tis false ; I'll ne'er believe . . . . . . . . 209 

Bich Gripe doth all his thoughts and cunning bend . . . . 221 

Short was the passage through this earthly vale . . . . 218 

Sick of the noise and smoke of town . . . . . . 215 

Still restless, still chopping and changing about . . . . 218 

Stranger, behold the mighty Hector's tomb 1 . . . . 215 

Sure 'twas by Providence design'd . . . . . . . . 217 

Take your night-cap again, my good lord, I desire . . . . 223 

Tender-handed stroke a nettle . . . . . . . . 223 

The man to the plough . . . . . . . . . . 221 

There's scarce a point wherein mankind agree . . . . 223 

The word explains itself without the muse . . . . . . 223 

They're richer who diminish their desires . . . . « . 212 

Though George, with respect to the wrong and the right . . 218 

Thrice twenty years you've seen your grass made hay . . 210 

To borrow Folly's cap and bells . . . . . . . . 222 

To find out the cause of Ould Ireland's distress . . . . 222 

Too much or too little wit . . . . . . . . . . 217 

"We are little airy creatures . . . . . . . . . . 212 

Wear the gown, and wear the hat . . . . . . . . 217 

What mortal burns not with the love of fame ? . . . . 213 

"What though, fair nymphs, your business is to play . . . . 211 

When sloth puts urgent business by . . . . . . . . 222 



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Sciences, &&, &>c. 

By W. M. BUCHANAN. 

A NEW EDITION. 
Price 6s. 



LONDON: WILLIAM TEGG. 



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